


The Lucky One

by amandundundun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anxiety, Canon Pet Death, Depression, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rating May Change, Secret Identity, Tags May Change, past pet death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandundundun/pseuds/amandundundun
Summary: After the release of his latest movie, world-famous celebrity Victor Nikiforov needs to get away. He finds himself at an exclusive resort in Japan-- run by the cutest assistant manager he’s ever seen. The only problem is that the whole world already thinks he’s in a relationship-- and his “girlfriend” isn’t too eager to end their arrangement.





	1. you laugh when you lie

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have a lot of this story written already, so hopefully it won't be too long until the next chapter. I just have to edit it. 
> 
> The work title is after Taylor Swift's song "The Lucky One," the chapter title from "Look What You Made Me Do," and all chapter titles will be from TS songs, as well. I'm a Swiftie, fight me. 
> 
> This story is unbeta'ed and tentatively edited. Read at your own risk, lol.

A generic alarm pulls Victor from sleep, dragging him from a dark and heavy nightmare. But the details are already slipping away. The pink California sunset streaming through his gauzy curtains paired with the weightless silence of his Beverly Hills mansion makes the moment feel surreal, as if he never woke up and is still stuck in an endless loop of isolation and vague memories.

It takes Victor a moment to come to himself and remember why he’s sleeping through the afternoon-- it isn’t a common practice for him, but tonight is guaranteed to be a late one and he isn’t as young as he used to be. Sighing, he rolls onto his back and reaches to stroke the curls of his snoozing poodle while he gathers the strength to get out of bed. 

He knows he should be jumping out of bed, excited to experience what should be the best night of his life-- but he just wants it to be over.

After a few minutes, another alarm on his phone goes off and he drags himself to the shower, standing under the warm spray until his heavy sleep washes away. The rest of his preparations are mechanical-- he goes through his beauty routine, removes his pristine new suit from its bag, shuts Makkachin in her room, and checks the app on his phone to make sure all of the lights are turned off and the doors are locked. 

As he sits in his kitchen and eats a protein bar he gets a text message from the guard at the neighborhood’s gate. His ride is here, so he swallows one last bite before going to meet the limo in his driveway. 

The moment Victor slides into the vehicle he’s met with a grating voice. “I don’t understand why I had to be picked up first,” his companion snaps. Victor sees her metallic heels flash out of the corner of his eye but he keeps his focus trained on his phone, never looking up. 

“It wouldn’t make sense for the limo to drive right past your place to get me, and then turn in the opposite direction of the theater to go back for you,” Victor repeats for what must be the tenth time this week. 

“You can afford it,” his co-star sniffs. 

Victor rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to try to explain gas conservation for the sake of the environment or time conservation for the sake of the driver. It’s all about money and self-interest with her. 

He focuses on social media, which generally gives him more hope for humanity than his fake girlfriend ever has. 

 

**_Everything you need to know about the new movie starring Victor Nikiforov and Anya Dahlia_ **

_ By Buzzfeed _

_ Tonight is the big premiere of the new movie starring international superstars and World’s Favorite Couple Victor Nikiforov and Anya Dahlia. The premiere (being held in the super glamorous  _ [ _ El Capitan Theatre _ ](https://elcapitantheatre.com/about-us/) _ in Hollywood) is sure to be extra star-studded, as the movie features an all-star supporting cast including Georgia Popovich, Yuri Plisetsky, and Mila Babicheva.  _

_ The new movie,  _ Stammi Vicino _ , is being called “transformative,” “enthralling,” and “a cinematic masterpiece” by even the most discerning of critics.  _

_ But the real reason Twitter is freaking out over the movie is in anticipation of the film’s love story between Victor Nikiforov and Anya Dahlia. The couple initially started dating eleven years ago when they met on the set of the popular fantasy book-series-turned-movie-series The Lilac Fairy, and fans that shipped their characters were thrilled. But they called it quits after only six months, devastating an entire generation of fantasy enthusiasts. So when it was announced that their romance had been rekindled on the set of Stammi Vicino earlier this year, the internet almost exploded.  _

_ Since then, the hype over Stammi Vicino has been high. Fans can’t wait to see another Victor and Anya romance on screen, and they may be even more excited to see them strut the red carpet tonight… _

  
  


Victor can’t read anymore. 

Restarting their fake relationship was Anya’s idea and the film’s producer loved it. Victor was young and naive the first time he and Anya dated, just 18 when 23-year-old Anya had suggested they go out on a few dates during the production of  _ The Lilac Fairy.  _ She was already an established actress and Victor was struggling to break free of child stardom and her attention had been flattering. But while she was all smiles and smitten glances while the cameras were pointed at them, she was cold and manipulative in private. Their relationship never progressed beyond chaste camera-friendly kisses because her behavior unnerved him even back then. She would ignore him and disappear into her trailer with handsome extras, only bothering to try to seduce Victor when he was the only one around. 

But he’d been told by older costars and friends that this was just how Hollywood worked, and that this fake relationship was great for his image. So he’d played the part in public and avoided being alone with her until her character was killed off on the show and she left him in favor of a young pop star who wanted to do a duet with her.

He’s 29 now and has enough fame without her but the producer of their movie wanted the extra money and attention that would come with them getting back together. Maybe Victor should have just financed the movie himself, but even he doesn’t have the right connections to make the sort of big movie he was planning. 

He sacrificed his dignity for his dream. 

Anya snaps her clutch bag shut as the limo comes to a halt, jolting Victor from his phone screen. A low roar of cheers can be heard even from inside the sturdy vehicle. 

“Are you ready, darling?” Anya asks cheerfully, her glossy lips stretched into a media-ready smile as she glances eagerly out the window. 

“Of course,” Victor responds dryly as his own face slips into his signature charming grin. 

He takes her hand.  _ Let’s get this over with.  _

 

“Victor, Anya, over here!” 

Victor is used to the blinding flashes of light by now. The trick is to focus squarely into the camera lens-- and have years of practice keeping your eyes open (but not too open) no matter what. 

Anya spots her favorite journalist, the one who gives her the most screen time on the biggest network-- it changes monthly-- and steers Victor toward their camera.

“Julianna!” Anya calls in a sing-song voice. 

Julianna, a pretty red-head with pointy features, looks positively ecstatic to have the primary attention of the movie’s stars. “Oh, Anya, you look  _ wonderful,”  _ she says reverently. 

Anya giggles and swishes her skirt before hugging Victor’s arm tighter. “Thank you, it’s an original piece by…” 

And here’s where Victor tunes out. He smiles politely and tries to look interested in the women’s conversation about Anya’s outfit and her latest charity work and the movie, but everything that comes out of Anya’s mouth sounds so fake. The difference between Victor and most people is that Victor knows that everything Anya does is for her image and to boost her fame. He’s heard the things she said about those orphans she was photographed helping last summer-- he’ll probably never think of Anya without feeling disgusted again. 

“We’re better than ever, aren’t we sweetheart?” she coos, and that’s Victor’s cue to snap back to reality and stare at her adoringly. 

Julianna squeals and Victor wishes he weren’t such a good actor. 

 

They take pictures with the main cast in front of a background plastered with the name of his movie. The letters of the words  _ Stammi Vicino  _ curl and dance in a glittering magenta that matches Anya’s glitzy fitted dress, Victor’s neatly folded pocket square, and the cheetah print on Yuri Plisetsky’s tie. Yuri growls as he is shuffled between Victor and Mila Babicheva, who refused to follow the color theme due to the way it clashed with her fiery red hair. She looks magnificent in gold and Victor wishes briefly that Mila was a few years older so he could have fake-dated her instead. 

But the thought makes him feel like a creep so he pushes it aside. Mila deserves better than a publicity stunt. 

Victor has a hand on Anya’s lower back as they pose and his smile doesn’t waver when he feels Georgi’s hand brush past his own on its way to caress Anya’s backside, nor does he care when Anya leans into Georgi’s touch. Everyone on the cast knows that Victor and Anya aren’t really together and Victor hopes Georgi steals Anya away sooner rather than later. 

When they get inside and take their seats, Georgi and Anya get to talking (or, rather, Georgi listens to Anya talk) and Victor turns to his younger costars. 

“Does this movie being released mean you can dump that bitch?” Yuri asks under his breath as he loosens his tie. 

Victor could-- and probably should-- encourage the 16-year-old boy to avoid calling Anya a bitch in public. He doesn’t. 

“Soon,” he says instead. 

Mila grins and slings an arm around Yuri’s shoulders, causing the blond to stiffen. “So we have two things to celebrate tonight!” she cheers. 

Victor can’t help but genuinely smile for the first time that night. “I guess so,” he chuckles. 

 

The best and simultaneously worst part about being the director of a film is watching people react to it. 

It’s stressful. Viktor’s whole body tenses up right before the moments meant to shock, cause laughter, cause tears. As the director and writer as well as the star, he knows the intentions behind every movement, word, and camera perspective. Luckily, the audience of  _ Stammi Vicino  _ reacts as if they are the ones on script. Victor’s films haven’t always gotten such a response, and despite Anya’s presence and the melancholia he’s felt over the last few weeks he feels himself get lost in the reactions of the audience and the pride of a movie well-done. 

This film will be his legacy and he knows it. It’s the story he’s had in his head since high school, all of the things he’s learned in his short life, the culmination of his life’s work and every drop of sweat he’s ever shed. If a soul could be implanted in a film, this film has his essence woven through every frame. 

 

“Mr. Nikiforov! What’s next for you?” 

Victor blinks. He wasn’t expecting to get this question so soon-- he just stepped out of the theater a few moments ago. He doesn’t have an answer to this question yet. 

“That’s a secret, Dante,” Anya says in a chiding tone, followed by a tinkling laugh. “Victor’s next project is still in its infancy so he can’t say anything about it, yet.” 

Victor is, briefly, grateful to have Anya at his side. She may not be a nice person but she’s sharp and quick to brush away even the most off-putting questions and accusations. Ask anybody-- she’s the most talented press-wrangler in Hollywood, probably the world. It’s probably the biggest reason Victor has stuck around her for so long. She could make or break his career without trying. 

Unfortunately, his gratefulness is short-lived because she immediately begins talking about their “perfect relationship” and Victor’s stomach clenches with guilt. He hates deceiving people like this but he had needed her support to get this movie created. Now that it’s over, he has no idea what to do next but he certainly isn’t going to continue on with Anya. 

 

A popular upbeat song blasts through the speakers, pounding through Victor’s head like a bad headache. He can already tell that the pounding won’t stop when the music does. The flashing lights are awful and Anya’s nails dig into his arm every time his attention strays from a conversation, which is often. He’s surprised she hasn’t torn his suit jacket. 

It’s almost an hour before he’s saved. 

“Victor, darling,” a familiar voice drawls. 

Victor spins to face his friend, unspeakably relieved. “Chris!” 

Tall, golden-haired, and dressed in a particularly ostentatious feathery white cape, Christophe Giacometti looks even more like an angel than usual. And when he shoots Anya his most smug and bitchy look and whisks Victor away, Victor wants to kiss him. 

Too bad Chris is taken and entirely not Victor’s type. 

Chris pulls him to the opposite side of the room where Mila and Yuri have gathered with a few technicians and makeup artists from the set. He squeezes Victor’s arm. “Almost over, yes? You should enjoy the celebration. You’ve been working on this movie since we met.” 

Victor sends his friend a thankful look, “Thank you, Chris. But didn’t you hear? I’m supposed to already be working on the next big thing.” 

“Don’t listen to the press,” Chris replied firmly. “You’ve always had trouble ignoring all the talk, even though you’ve been in this business for so long.”

“Anyone who says it doesn’t get to them is a liar,” Victor muttered. 

Chris just shrugged and grabbed a few cocktails from a passing waiter. “Hollywood is made of liars. Some are just better at owning their lies.” He hands Victor one of the glasses and Victor throws it back without hesitation. It’s not nearly enough, he can barely taste the alcohol, it’s mostly sugar and juice. 

“Ugh,” he says, and Chris matches his grimace. 

“I’ll go get us something stronger,” he promises. 

“I’ll have a soda glass of vodka,” Victor replies, only mostly joking. 

Chris shoots him a wink and disappears into the crowd with their cocktail glasses. Victor is immediately flanked by Yuri and Mila. 

“Your friend is gross,” Yuri says, looking off in the direction Chris disappeared. 

Victor just chuckles. Chris definitely makes an impression on other people. With his low, sultry voice he can make anything sound like an innuendo, and getting married hadn’t softened the effect at all. 

“I like him,” Mila declares. “He’s fun. And a great dancer-- do you think he’ll dance with me later?” 

“He’s obviously gay, Baba,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. 

Mila laughs. “So am I, kitten, but a good dance partner is hard to find.” 

“So true,” Victor says, smiling only so he doesn’t make his friends uncomfortable. But he knows he’ll have to dance with Anya later for the cameras and he’s already dreading the performance. Anya’s idea of dancing is standing still and moving her body against her partner seductively, flipping her thick brown hair into Victor’s face and pouting her artificially-plumped lips at the camera. He’d rather dance with one of his friends, but if he did that there would be cheating rumors spreading five minutes later. 

Yuri rolls his eyes and makes a disgusted noise. “Aren’t you at the age where you’re interested in dating, yet?” Mila asks teasingly. 

“Dating is different than PDA! You don’t have to be gross to be with someone.”

Victor and Mila exchange a disbelieving glance. Sure, Victor doesn’t have a  _ ton  _ of experience in that area-- his busy career and careful public denial of his sexuality had made sure of that-- but even he knows people in love tend to be “gross” around each other. 

“Maybe you will be the exception to the rule,” Victor says with a shrug. “But if you start being ‘gross’ with your partner in the future  _ I’ll never let you live it down,”  _ he warns with a smirk. 

Yuri scoffs and folds his arms over his chest. “If I ever do that gross shit in public then I hope you put me out of my misery.” 

Chris comes up behind Yuri as he says this and smirks at Victor over the teen’s shoulder. “You know, my husband has ties to the Yakuza,” he purrs, making Yuri jump. 

Victor nearly snorts. Chris’s husband is half Japanese and grew up in Japan, but the idea of him having ties to organized crime is hilarious. Masumi is as straight-laced as they come. Victor’s never even seen him tipsy-- or wearing jeans! But Yuri pales and shuffles backward as Mila giggles into her hand. She may not know Masumi, but she’s the least gullible person Victor knows. She can smell a lie or half-truth from a mile away. 

“Y-yeah, right,” Yuri stammers, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chris winks at Yuri, “Just trying to help,  _ mon petit chou.  _ My dearest Masumi could find somebody who would take that request very seriously. _ ”  _

He turns to Victor and hands him a soda glass. Victor looks into it and blinks. There’s only a few shots worth of vodka in it, but it’s still a soda glass of vodka. 

“ _ À ta santé _ ,” Chris says to the three of them, raising his glass. 

“ _ À la tienne _ ,” Victor responds, and Mila catches on and clumsily echoes him. The three clink glasses while Yuri rebelliously takes a drink without toasting. 

After Victor takes a swig he smiles at Yuri wickedly. “You know, Yura, to deny a toast in France means seven years of bad luck.” 

“Actually, I’m Swiss, and breaking a Swiss toast means seven years of bad sex,” Chris says casually, swirling his martini. 

Yuri turns bright red and gapes like a fish as Mila screeches with laughter. Even Victor can’t help but genuinely laugh along. 

“We’re not in France!” Yuri shouts. 

“Our poor little Yuri, cut off before he even begins--” Mila coos, throwing his arms around the blond. 

“Get off me hag, don’t make assumptions--”

As Mila and Yuri begin to bicker, Chris leans toward Victor and gives his arm a squeeze. “I haven’t seen you laugh in years,  _ ma moitié _ . Maybe it’s time to take a break, now that you’ve done what you set out to do.” 

Victor looks into his cup and swishes the contents. “That sounds nice, but I still have promotions to do before the movie hits theaters, talk shows to do afterward, and--”

“Or,” Chris interrupts, “You could just--  _ not.”  _ He shrugs. “Let Anya do the promotion-- and Yuri and Mila and Georgi. Disappear off the map, tell the world you’re working on your next great project, be an eccentric celebrity for once! I bet the mystery of your disappearance will do more for promotion than a few appearances will.” 

“Maybe,” Victor says slowly. It’s-- an idea. And it’s not a  _ terrible  _ one. It’s not great, in terms of feasibility, but Victor would  _ love  _ to escape California and disappear for a few months. His enthusiasm for his work is gone, as is his sense of self and his inspiration. He’s entirely burnt out, a hollow shell, and he doesn’t have a plan after promotion for  _ Stammi Vicino  _ is over. There is no way he’ll be able to continue surprising his fans and the world if he doesn’t back away and find some perspective. 

“You know I’m right,” Chris sings. “Call me if you decide to do what you need to do-- right now you should knock back the rest of your drink because that she-devil is coming our way.” 

Victor downs the rest of his vodka so fast he almost chokes. 

 

By the time Victor returns to Makka and his otherwise empty mansion he’s uncomfortably sober and bone-achingly tired. The shots Chris had given him hadn’t lasted him through his night with Anya and Chris had been unable to smuggle him more or steal him away. 

“How would it look if you had to be drunk to be with me, or if you spend more time with your friend than your girlfriend?” Anya had reminded him with a smile. 

After Victor crawled into bed with Makka he lay there for a long time trying to sort out what to do. Disappearing before promotion for the movie was over could hurt his reputation with producers, but he doubted it would hurt his image, and it could actually bring more attention to the movie. Perhaps if he did a few video interviews from a “mysterious location” and timed his disappearance right, he could bring some intrigue to his current and future projects...

Or he could just  _ leave  _ and figure the rest out later. 

He still isn’t sure what to do when he wakes up the next morning, so he puts in a call to Chris. 

“As much as I’d love to tell you to just get the fuck out, I know you care about your career, so it might be best to preserve that. In the meantime, you can plan a really great vacation for yourself,” Chris advises. “Come to Japan! Find a resort outside Tokyo and you can take the train to visit Masumi and me on weekends.” 

Victor calls his manager, Yakov, as well, but he does so while Googling “Resorts in Japan”. 

“You should keep up the momentum from  _ Stammi.  _ Even if you just act in your next movie, I can find you one that will get you that Oscar.” Yakov says.

“Who says I won’t get one for  _ Stammi?”  _ Victor asks indignantly, shifting his attention from a hotel website.

“Who says you will?” Yakov snaps. “There’s a social-issue drama being released next month, and it deals with topics much trendier than yours.” 

Anger boils in Victor’s stomach. He knows Yakov isn’t saying this to be dismissive of his biggest accomplishment-- this is the way Hollywood works. Victor’s  _ Stammi Vicino  _ deals with depression, loneliness, and isolation, but those can’t compare to topics that are popular in the media or online. 

“I guess depression just isn’t trendy anymore,” Victor says bitterly and on the other end of the line, Yakov heaves a sigh. 

“I’m not going to bother to explain what you already know,” Yakov says flatly. “If you want to disappear to  _ actually  _ write another screenplay that’s fine-- as long as you come back with another Oscar-worthy script.” 

Victor agrees, but he won’t say how long he’ll be gone. “However long I’ll need,” he tells Yakov. And then he calls his travel agent. 


	2. happy, free, confused, and lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor arrives at Yutopia for his first real vacation in-- forever. Yuuri runs into the ryokan's newest guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shuffles in after five months looking tired and twitchy*  
> Hello, everyone! I know I said at the beginning of the first chapter that the second chapter wouldn't take long to post, but when I was editing it I realized it was missing a whole scene. I had *no* idea what to write and then I started my college classes and a new job. Finally, in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, I just threw something in there and I think it works! So. Thanks to everybody for waiting, and welcome to any new readers.

A shiny black car meets Victor at the train station. There’s a slight chill in the air and Victor is glad he has been carrying his coat since he departed from sunny LA the day before. 

“Come on, Makkachin,” Victor says, giving Makka’s leash a gentle tug to redirect her attention from the trash can she’s sniffing. They settle into the car, the driver insisting on loading their things into the trunk, and Makka curls up on the seat next to Victor. 

He’s free. It’s been over three months since the premiere of his movie-- and most of that time has been spent attending promotional events and interviews. Now he has months of blank days stretching in front of him like the untouched beaches of his childhood. 

The resort he’s staying at has a private beach-- he can’t wait to spend time there. 

Japan is lovely in the spring. There are cherry blossom trees in parks, in front of businesses, dotted along the streets. The flowers are in bloom, a vibrant pink, fluttering in the breeze and falling to the pavement like confetti. 

Victor’s requirements for his vacation spot had been simple. He wanted a resort-- a place to be pampered and cleaned up after and so he could feel like he’s on a real vacation. It had to be in Japan, so he could visit Chris in Tokyo without much trouble and go to museums and theatres and play tourist. Oh, and the resort had to accept Makkachin. Special pet amenities were a plus. 

A few hours after he sent the email outlining these requirements, his travel agent had called. She’d cashed in a few favors and gotten him an open-ended stay at one of the most exclusive resorts in Japan-- a ryokan, or hot springs resort. 

The ryokan is perfect for him-- pets are encouraged, his villa has a private hot springs pool, and there’s a private beach. The only downside is that it’s on the opposite side of the country from Tokyo. But Victor figures he can afford a two-hour flight to Tokyo for the weekend every once-in-a-while, so it isn’t a big deal, especially since he won’t have to deal with international customs.

The inn itself is beautiful. They have plenty of their own cherry blossom trees lining the property, which sits on the edge of a tiny but neat seaside town. Bold Latin letters declare the hotel is called  _ Yutopia  _ and Victor hopes it lives up to its name. 

He poses for a selfie with Makkachin in front of the hotel and sends it to Chris.  _ We’re here! Thx again for the invite to Japan, see you next week.  _

Chris sends back an odd mix of emojis ranging from heart eyes and fire to eggplants and elephants. 

The pretty manager introduces herself as Yuuko. Her accent is strong but the English itself is perfectly structured. She’s bouncy and friendly and gives a slight impression of being a star-struck fan but doesn’t say anything about knowing who Victor is, for which Victor is grateful. He doesn’t mind fans, but the fewer he has to deal with on this vacation, the better. 

“Complimentary tea service is two to four in the tea room, dinner is served four to ten in the dining hall, and the bar is open from eleven in the morning to two in the morning,” she explains, pointing out different rooms on a small laminated map he’s holding. “But I recommend room service-- you can get anything on any menu at any time,” she adds with a wink. “Oh, and dogs are welcome in all areas of the hotel at any time!” she gives Makka a scratch behind the ears and Makka thumps her tail happily. 

“I’ve never heard of such a dog-friendly hotel before,” Victor replies, looking through the list. There’s more information in his packet than there was on the website-- the site hadn’t said anything about doggy & me snorkeling and doggy dance classes. Victor can’t wait to try every pet-friendly activity on the list. 

“The owners of the hotel love dogs. Their son insisted on making this resort extra pet-friendly,” Yuuko giggles as Makka licks her face. “I bet your beautiful Makkachin would love one of Grandma Okukawa’s secret-formula deep conditioning treatments. She’ll feel like a cloud.” 

“I’ll definitely put that on the to-do list,” Victor responds with a laugh. That confirms that Yuuko is a fan-- Victor had introduced his dog as simply “Makka,” but Yuuko knew her full name. She must at least follow Makka’s Instagram. 

But she’s pleasant and relaxed-- they must get a lot of famous people at such an expensive resort. After so many years of being bothered everywhere he goes, Yuuko immediately earns herself Victor’s fondness. 

 

Victor has one of the five villas on the property for the rest of the spring and summer-- it’s the one furthest from the resort and therefore the most secluded. It’s surrounded by thick, fragrant foliage to the point where it’s almost invisible. If it weren’t for the clear cobblestone path leading to the door Victor would be worried he would lose the villa entirely. 

The interior is light and airy. There are retractable skylight windows in every room-- a spacious bedroom with a massive western-style bed and matching miniature pet-bed, an attached bathroom with a rainfall shower and jacuzzi tub, a full-sized kitchen with every convenience he could ever need, and a living room complete with kotatsu and flat-screen television. There are floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to a fenced backyard that extends almost to the beginning of the beach and in the corner of the yard is a secluded private hot springs pool. It’s the most luxurious hotel room he’s ever been in-- he’s never really been to such an inclusive resort before, one meant for long stays. Usually, he stays in high-quality but relatively common hotel suites and spends little time there except to sleep. This villa is better furnished than his Beverly Hills mansion. 

While Makka sniffs everything she can reach and darts back and forth through the open back door, Victor eases open the skylights to let in the cool sea air. He takes a refreshing shower under the deliciously high-pressure rainfall showerhead and takes an extra long time exfoliating, shaving, and moisturizing. By the time he’s done Makka has passed out on the human-sized bed and Victor makes himself a coffee with the kitchen’s expensive single-cup coffee maker. Makka may be able to deal with irregular sleeping patterns but if Victor wants to acclimate to the new timezone quickly he needs to stay up for at least another five hours. 

Sitting on the back porch with a coffee, wet hair, and sweatpants, he feels more refreshed than he has in years. 

Until he checks his text messages.

Victor only wants to send Yakov a text message letting him know he arrived safely, but there are messages from Anya waiting in his inbox.

Before he’d left Hollywood Victor had sent Yakov instructions to negotiate a break-up between him and Anya before the end of next month. It looks like Anya wasn’t too happy to have heard the news from her manager rather than Victor himself, but Victor doesn’t owe Anya a thing. They don’t have feelings for each other-- they can barely stand to be in the same room if they aren’t working on a scene. She has never shown any real interest in him either as a romantic prospect or even as a human being. This is a simple business arrangement and Yakov manages Victor’s business arrangements. 

_ You’re a fool to break this off, Vitya,  _ reads her message. He cringes at the use of the diminutive-- she knows he hates when she uses it. ‘Vitya’ is for people he loves-- Yakov, his mothers, hopefully someday the person he falls in love with. Not for her.  _ You’ll never be as famous alone as you are with me.  _

Victor blows out a frustrated breath and types back,  _ Sign the end-contract papers, Anya. I need to find a real partner and you do, too.  _

Victor likes Georgi Popovich, the overdramatic former child star that Anya started seeing after they met while filming  _ Stammi Vicino.  _ Georgi is just a day younger than Victor and, before Victor cast him, was still struggling to find a new place in Hollywood after the long-running drama he’d been a part of as a kid ended over fifteen years ago. He had a strong fanbase and just the right look and acting-style for one of the characters in  _ Stammi  _ and Victor had been quick to pick him out at auditions. Victor and Georgi had worked together briefly as teenagers when Georgi had a role in one of the  _ Lilac Fairy  _ movies that had gotten Victor most of his fame. Even though his character had been killed off after just one movie they stayed in touch and talked at events. He’s professional when he wants to be but has terrible luck in love and gets overemotional when a relationship doesn’t work out. Victor doesn’t want to see Georgi get his heart broken by Anya, so he hopes she’ll at least let him down gently when she leaves him. She doesn’t deserve someone as good as Georgi, though, and ideally, he will figure that out sooner rather than later. 

Either way, Anya needs to break up with Victor. If she’s going to stay with Georgi he at least deserves a relationship that isn’t a secret. 

And Victor desperately, desperately wants to find someone of his own. Someone who can ease the bone-deep loneliness that’s driving him into the ground. 

 

He wakes up late the next morning, the sun shining through the skylights and heating his skin pleasantly. Part of him begs to shutter the skylights with the handy little remote control lying within reach on the bedside table and get a few more hours of sleep-- he can afford it, he doesn’t have anywhere to go, not for days-- but Victor has always been a morning person and it’s already after nine in the morning. His decision is made when Makka notices he’s awake and bounces off the bed, jumping in the doorway as if to say,  _ “Let’s go, dad! It’s time for a walk!”  _

Laughing, Victor throws off his covers. “Alright,  _ malysh,  _ one moment.” 

He showers and dresses quickly, tucking his wet hair under an old baseball cap that advertises a Stars of Hollywood bus tour-- a joke gift from a castmate a few years back. With that and a large pair of sunglasses he’s slightly less recognizable, if more conspicuous. Hopefully, the other guests are famous or rich enough in their own right to get the point and leave him alone. 

They walk to the main building and into the restaurant for breakfast. He and Makka are immediately seated and Makka is brought a bowl of water and Victor a pot of coffee. He’s still feeling a little jet-lagged and nauseous from travelling the day before and decides to skip the traditional Japanese breakfast recommendations and orders an omelette instead. Makka gets the pet breakfast of the day-- a weird mix of meat and organs and vegetables that Victor can’t think too much about if he wants to keep his coffee down but the waitress assures him is a recipe created by a very respected pet nutritionist. Either way, she loves it, and it doesn’t look too different from the prepackaged dog meals he has delivered from a shop in Beverly Hills, just fresher. 

The dining room Victor and Makka are in is reserved for guests of the hotel and there are only a few other groups, two of them with dogs of their own. But judging by the noise coming from the next room the public dining room is packed. No wonder-- his omelette and coffee are absolutely perfect and Makkachin is already throwing him puppy eyes from under the table in hopes of getting more. But as he’s finishing his third cup of coffee Victor notices that a few teenagers sitting with their parents at a table across the room have spotted him and are throwing him curious glances as they whisper. 

“Time to go then, Makka,” he says, clipping her leash back on her collar. She throws a pitiful look at him, her paw scratching at her empty bowl. “Don’t worry, we’re going for a walk.” 

They exit and head toward the beach. He lets her off the leash when they get there-- the hotel’s policies say it’s allowed and Makka was impeccably trained. She bounces out toward the gentle waves and begins to chase them back and forth, barking gleefully. 

Seagulls circle overhead as Victor sits on a bench to remove his shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs. Their cries, Makka’s barks, and the crash of the waves remind him of growing up in St. Petersburg. His childhood poodle mix, Pashka, would chase waves just like Makka is now, and the seagulls would sound just the same and the chill in the air feels like a Russian summer morning. 

And as Victor runs barefoot into the freezing water after Makka, he feels a little younger and his soul a little lighter.

 

Yuuri starts his shift at one in the afternoon. 

He doesn’t mind filling in as assistant manager while he waits for his family and Minako to get back from visiting their international properties. The position needs to be briefly filled while Kagawa Chihoko is out on maternity leave, and she will be back around the same time as his family. He needs something to keep him busy now that he’s out of school and back home in Japan, and he likes working with Yuuko, Takeshi, and Phichit. 

Yuuko is talking on the phone when Yuuri walks into the management office five minutes before his shift starts. “Of course! We can send some complimentary pet grooming essentials to your room right now,” she’s saying, and Yuuri furrows his brows at her. She shouldn’t be taking calls meant for the concierge or the front desk. Seeing his look, she rolls her eyes at him as she bids the guest goodbye. 

“Emiko and that new kid at the front desk are busy with Mrs. Sagihara.” Yuuko says the guest’s name with disdain, rolling her eyes again for effect. “She brought that infernal bed with her again.”

Yuuri winces. “What is she upset about?” He asks, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“We changed the light fixtures in the hotel and she’s simply  _ distraught,”  _ Yuuko answers flatly. 

“Uh-- no we didn’t.” 

“Exactly. So unless you want to deal with Mrs. Sagihara for me or relieve one of the bellhops moving her suitcases, you’ll have to take dog shampoo to Villa five.” 

Yuuri quickly agrees to making the run so he can put off reuniting with Mrs. Sagihara for a little longer.

Mrs. Sagihara has taken up residence in the main building’s largest suite every year from March to November for as long as he can remember. It’s practically her suite. Normally a resort like Yutopia wouldn’t accept such long stays-- stays that really border on renting-- but Mrs. Sagihara is absurdly wealthy and influential and recommends Yutopia to every rich person she knows, making her responsible for a significant portion of their business and stellar reputation. That’s why she’s allowed to stay in their biggest suite for over nine months every year (the other three-odd months she spends with various children and grandchildren) and do pretty much whatever she wants while she’s there. Including bringing her custom bed frame and mattress that she “ _ simply must have or I won’t live through the night”  _ brought in and installed. He hasn’t been around for her move-in day in several years because of school, but he graduated in December and can’t escape this time.

After stopping by the pet salon to pick up some supplies, Yuuri drives the golf cart out to villa five. He pulls up outside of the fifth villa and when he turns off the noisy cart engine he can hear a commotion coming from the back of the small building. A dog is whining, someone is pleading in a foreign language, and then there’s a loud thump and a shout. 

Knowing something is wrong Yuuri runs around the edge of the building toward the noise. “Hello?” he calls in English. 

“Oh, somebody please help!” a man calls in the same language-- he only sounds aggravated-- maybe a little desperate-- but Yuuri picks up the pace and enters the back gate, which is propped open with a stone.

And that’s how Yuuri finds his celebrity crush Victor Nikiforov soaking wet and hanging half out of a bathroom window while clutching his equally sopping-wet poodle (the most famous poodle on the internet) as she tries to escape what appears to be bathtime-gone-wrong.

Yuuri stops and stares for a moment, a little stunned by the absurdity of the situation. He knew Victor Nikiforov was checking in soon, of course, but he had forgotten the specific date and now he is entirely unprepared meeting the star of all of his favorite movies-- including the film adaptation of his favorite book series-- and the subject of the frankly embarrassing collection of merchandise he has in his room. Yuuri has actually imagined meeting Victor several times since his stay was booked the week before, but Yuuri thought he’d introduce himself to Victor over the front counter or maybe while making his rounds through the dining room or pool area. 

This is not what he expected. 

Victor Nikiforov--  _ the  _ Victor Nikiforov-- awkwardly looks up at him through wet hair. There’s a streak of dirt and wet sand across his jawline, which he somehow pulls off like it’s high-fashion makeup. And then Victor sends Yuuri a dazzling smile and Yuuri almost faints on the spot. 

“Do you mind closing the gate, please?” Victor asks, his voice strained and rough from exertion. It’s uncomfortably sexy. But Yuuri does as he’s asked and stiffly bends to move the rock away and close the gate. When he turns back, Victor has let go of Makkachin (yes, of course Yuuri knows her name, anybody who really loves dog pictures knows to follow @MakkaBaby on Instagram) and the stubborn creature is rolling on her back in the grass, getting even dirtier than she was before. 

Yuuri looks back toward the window but Victor has already clambered back inside and shut the window. He appears a moment later at the back door, his hair pushed back, scrubbing at his face with a towel. 

“You have great timing,” Victor says to Yuuri, flashing him another devastating smile. “I opened the window so the wet dog smell wouldn’t stick to everything in the room and she tried to escape back to the beach.” He chuckles and Yuuri’s knees feel weak. 

Victor’s gray shirt is clinging to his perfect body and Yuuri can’t breathe or stand and  _ why is he such a gay mess  _ he’s just trying to  _ do his job.  _ “I was afraid I’d never get her back into the yard, so thank you--” he leans forward and squints at Yuuri’s chest-- “Mr. Kagawa.” 

Yuuri blinks stupidly at the Russian man for a moment until he remembers that he’s wearing Kagawa Chihoko’s name tag. The name tags don’t specify the gender of the wearer or their first name and Yuuri would have just had to order a tag with a fake last name, anyway, to avoid the uncomfortable and unnecessary treatment that comes with being the son of the hotel’s owners, so he just kept Chihoko’s tag. He’s been wearing it since December by now but he still occasionally forgets to answer to Kagawa. 

“Oh, um, no problem,” he stutters, straightening himself and holding out his hand to shake. “Please, call me Yuuri. I’m the assistant manager here and I very much hope you’ll let me know if you need anything to make your stay more enjoyable.”

“Nice to meet you,  _ Yuuuri,”  _ he draws out the  _ oo  _ in Yuuri’s name and although it probably shouldn’t it sounds absolutely indecent. Yuuri fights to suppress a shiver when their hands connect to shake. “Please call me Victor. I look forward to getting to know you,” he responds with a grin. 

If Yuuri didn’t know better he would swear Victor is flirting with him, and his shock causes him to hold on to Victor’s hand a little longer than he would’ve otherwise. Victor doesn’t seem to mind, he just smiles at Yuuri until Makka’s cold nose against his free hand jolts Yuuri back to reality and he hastily lets go.

Victor looks down at his dog with a sad sigh and Yuuri tears his eyes away from Victor’s perfect face to look, as well. Makkachin grins up at them, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, tail wagging enthusiastically as she looks back and forth between Yuuri and Victor. She’s absolutely  _ filthy--  _ there’s dirt and grass clinging to every wet inch of her and she seems pretty happy with the outcome. 

“I don’t suppose I can just take her to the salon now, can I?” he asks hopefully. 

Yuuri can’t stop a giggle from escaping and Victor laughs, too. “It would probably be easier for our groomers to clean her up in the salon than it would be for the maids to get the dirt out of your carpet and bathroom,” Yuuri admits. 

“That’s a good point,” Victor concedes. “Um, would you be able to show me to the pet salon?” 

Even if Yuuri didn’t have time to show Victor around the property, he would’ve anyway. He agrees with a practiced smile.

Victor grabs Makka’s leash and takes her around the front of the villa to Yuuri’s golf cart. Yuuri has to insist several times that it’s not a big deal if Makka gets mud on the seats-- they’re plastic and he cleaned the puke of a drunk guest off this very same cart as a teen, but he doesn’t tell Victor this-- before he will put her in the back seat. He gets himself muddy in the process but just wipes his hands on his name-brand sweatpants and sits down in the seat next to Yuuri. 

They ride in silence, and although the trip to the salon only lasts a few minutes, Yuuri spends the time feeling extremely awkward. He isn’t sure what to say to someone he’s admired for so long, or how not to make an idiot of himself in front of the most gorgeous man on the planet, so he just focuses on the path. 

Yuuri pulls up alongside the side of the salon, as Makkachin is too dirty to bring in through the lobby. He unlocks the side door and holds it open for ViCtor to carry his filthy poodle inside, trying not to let his eyes linger on Victor’s arm muscles or the sweat beading on his brow. 

But he’s only human, and Yuuri ends up so distracted by Victor’s devastating good looks, in fact, that he doesn’t realize his mistake until he steps into the salon behind Victor and Makkachin.

The salon is chaotic-- every salon employee is there, brushing or bathing or drying a small herd of dogs. Fur floats through the air like snow and the combined sound of barking, machinery, and talking is deafening. 

It’s the first day of the month-- meaning it’s the day the salon is open to walk-in appointments from the residents of Hasetsu. The salon’s busiest day. Grandma Okukawa is going to be  _ pissed. _

Before Yuuri manages to grab Victor and  _ run _ , however, the salon’s manager spots them and descends on Yuuri like a bird of prey. 

_ “Yuuri, you better not be bringing me more work!”  _ A sharp voice shouts over the room in Japanese. A tall, thin gray-haired woman appears like a ghost from a mist of pet dander, her dark eyes gleaming with fury. She’s clutching a wriggling, soapy Yorkie in her arms as she storms toward them from the wash stations. 

Yuuri immediately drops into a deep bow. He does  _ not  _ want to be on the bad side of Grandma Okukawa-- that would mean being on the bad side of Minako, as well. Yuuri wouldn’t survive their combined wrath.  _ “I’m sorry, obaa-sama. But Nikiforov-san’s poodle really can’t wait.”  _

Grandma Okukawa huffs and walks up to Victor and Makkachin, squinting to get a better look. The cheerful poodle wags her tail as the Yorkie gets closer-- and splatters the wall and the sudsy pooch with mud. 

Yuuri can  _ see  _ Grandma Okukawa’s jaw clench, but before either Victor or Yuuri can say anything she sighs. “I don’t have a person to spare at the moment, but the mud will be uncomfortable and irritating for your dog if it dries,” she says, switching to her near-perfect English to explain the situation to Victor. 

The Russian man’s brow furrows with worry, but before he can say anything, Yuuri hears himself say, “I’ll do it.” 

As the only assistant manager on duty today, Yuuri really doesn’t have time to spend an hour grooming a mud-caked poodle. But Yuuri is also a sucker for a dog in need, and he definitely isn’t going to disappoint the man he’s looked up to for most of his life. 

“Good,” Grandma Okukawa says with a nod. “Don’t worry, Mr. Nikiforov. Yuuri-kun has worked here in the salon several summers. He knows his way around as well as any of the salon’s permanent employees.” 

“Thank you,” Victor says, turning those devastating blue eyes on Yuuri, “But I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I can manage by myself--”

“No, no,” Grandma Okukawa cuts in. “You can help, but I can’t let you wander around by yourself. You don’t know where everything is,” she says with a wave of her hand.

Before Victor can protest, the old woman turns her head toward a voice calling from the other side of the room. She leaves without another word. 

And Yuuri is alone with Victor, again. Victor  _ Nikiforov. _

It was one thing when Yuuri just had to cart Victor to the salon. But now he’ll be spending the next hour or more helping him clean Makkachin, and they’ll have to  _ small talk.  _ Yuuri is horrible at small talk. He’ll clam up and say something stupid and then he’ll have to lock himself in his room and never come out. 

“Um, I’m sorry about this, again,” Victor says, shifting his weight from foot to foot and adjusting his hold on Makka. “I’ll do most of the work--”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Yuuri says, waving his hands. “I apologize that our salon is so busy today. After today I’ll make sure there’s always a contingency on days like today for our guests.” He adds a bow, partially to cover his red face. 

“Don’t apologize, I’m the one who was too busy looking at the pretty assistant manager and let my dog roll in mud.” 

Yuuri can’t hide the way his blush intensifies at Victor’s words and the sly wink he punctuates them with. The most beautiful man on the planet just called  _ him  _ pretty. Victor is  _ actually  _ flirting with him. All he can do in response is laugh weakly and try not to lose himself in bright blue eyes. 

“Let’s get the good girl cleaned up,” he says in an effort to redirect the conversation.

Yuuri finds them each a rubber apron as Victor settles his poodle inside an empty washbasin. The dog must be used to being groomed in a professional setting because she looks unperturbed by her location. She even seems to be cheerful, her tail thumping a beat into the metal sides of the tub and craning her neck to keep her eyes on her owner as he moves to take an apron from Yuuri.

Victor is delighted to take over most of the work-- Yuuri just has to show him how to work the spray hose and help slough the mud off of Makkachin and down the drain. It’s a slow process since the actor spends more time cooing sweet nonsense to his dog than paying attention to what he’s doing. Judging by how wet Yuuri’s shirt already is, they’re  _ all  _ going to be soaked by the time Makkachin is clean. 

Between gently guiding Victor and trying to ignore the fact that he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his celebrity crush, Yuuri is too distracted to notice the silence that has settled over them until Victor speaks up. 

“I’ve never given Makka a bath, before,” He says suddenly, thoughtfully, as if he is just realizing.

The shampoo bottle Yuuri is holding slips out of his sudsy hands, landing with a  _ thwump  _ in the water below.  He wasn’t expecting Victor to talk to him-- even if there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t. 

Yuuri used to give his toy poodle baths all the time-- even though he could’ve taken Vicchan to Yutopia’s pet salon anytime he wanted, he always preferred to do it himself. 

“It’s not like I’ve never washed a dog before, I used to wash my childhood dog myself,” he explains hurriedly, “But by the time I got Makka I was already so focused on my career that I would just take her to the groomers. I thought that now I had time I could do it myself, but maybe I’ve lost my touch,” he chuckles humorlessly. After a beat, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal. I apologize.” 

Yuuri just shrugs. “I understand. I had to leave my dog behind to go to college in America-- I didn’t see him for years, and although my family took good care of him I wish I had been there to take care of him myself-- especially in the end.”

Yuuri turns his head to meet Victor’s eyes and is startled by the gentle understanding in the other man’s expression. He really is so, so beautiful, and Yuuri is blown away by how much more attractive he is in person than in magazines or online. There are light freckles across his nose and cheeks that editors must airbrush out, and his eyelashes are silver without the help of mascara. A thin scar peeks out from under Victor’s trademark fringe, which is slightly wavy after being soaked and dried. 

For some unfathomable reason, Victor stares back at him, their moment once again only broken when Makka makes a move to leap toward a passing dog. Their hands and shoulders brush and bump as they thwart yet another escape attempt by the poodle. Yuuri’s heart is in his throat as Victor laughs, sparkling and bright. 

“Six years old and still just a big puppy,” Victor says fondly, leaning in to let Makka swipe a kiss across his cheek. “My childhood dog, Pashka, died while I was shooting a movie on location. I hadn’t seen him in three months.” The celebrity’s tone is meant to sound light, but a hint of sadness seeps through. 

Yuuri nods stiffly. “I hadn’t seen Vicchan in six months. I was at university in America.” 

There’s a beat of silence, heavy with mutual understanding. “What kind of dog was Vicchan?” Victor asks. 

Yuuri pushes down the embarrassment bubbling in his stomach. He wipes his wet hands on his apron and pulls out his phone, bringing up a picture of a graying Vicchan crouching playfully in a pile of once-clean laundry on the floor. “He was a miniature poodle,” he admits sheepishly, holding the phone up for Victor to see. 

The actor’s bright eyes go wide with excitement, “A mini Makkachin! Or, rather, Makkachin is a giant Vicchan. Aren’t poodles the best?” 

“The very best,” Yuuri agrees, and like that, the sadness is chased away by their mutual love for poodles.

Victor launches into a series of stories about Makkachin’s antics as he and Yuuri work together to rinse the soap from Makka’s curls. As they massage in conditioner, Yuuri tells Victor of the time Vicchan escaped the salon, found his way into one of the villas, ate the occupant’s leftover dinner from the coffee table, then woke up them by licking their feet. Victor bursts into the kind of laughter that makes him double over, clutching the counter for support, wrinkles forming around his eyes. 

“That sounds like the best way to wake up!” Victor replies with an honest-to-goodness  _ giggle _ . 

Yuuri can’t help but agree, grinning widely. “Luckily, the guests agreed. Vicchan was in a bit of trouble, though.” 

Once Makka is dry and carefully brushed, Yuuri walks over to a set of cabinets and opens them with a flourish.  The inside of the cabinet is lined with a display of hair bows, clips, bandanas, bowties, and boxes filled with extra grooming supplies like dog-safe fur color and gel. Victor gasps and clutches his chest dramatically-- something only he could make cute, Yuuri is sure.

“What’s Makka’s favorite color?” Yuuri asks.

Victor gives Yuuri a blank look and tilts his head in confusion. “Dogs are colorblind, Yuuri.”

“Oh! Uh, I know, I just meant—” 

But before Yuuri can get too red in the face, Victor’s confusion breaks into a sly grin. “I’m just kidding, Yuuri. Makka’s favorite color is, of course, pink.” 

“ _ Victor,”  _ Yuuri complains, sagging as relief washes over him. “I wasn’t prepared for you to tease me.” 

Victor chuckles and shoots him another devastating wink. “Sorry,  _ krasavets.  _ But you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

_ I’m about to be drop-dead gorgeous, then,  _ Yuuri thinks weakly as he tries to avoid bursting into actual flames. But Victor just turns to the cabinet and taps his lips with his index finger. “Those big bows would look lovely on Makka’s ears— which shade of pink do you think, girl?” 

Makka  _ boofs  _ and wags her tail in delight, clearly interested in being part of the conversation but having no idea what Victor is saying. Victor just nods shortly, as if she’s made an incredibly important contribution, and plucks a baby-pink set and a neon pink set of bows from their hooks, holding them out for Makka to sniff. She shoves her nose into each individually, taking equally huge snorting snoot-fuls of scent from both before sitting back and returning her attention to Victor. 

Yuuri can’t help but laugh. “I guess that’s a ‘no’ for both. May I make another suggestion?” 

The poodle and her owner turn their attention to Yuuri, and after a quick scan of the available options, Yuuri snatches the bows he’s been looking for and holds them up triumphantly. “Here!”

Victor beams and Makka does a little dance, her tail whipping back and forth. “Stammi Vicino- pink! Of course!” Victor exclaims. He trades Yuuri the rejected bows for the fuschia set Yuuri picked out and gets to work tying them to the fur on Makka’s ears. Yuuri helps him straighten them and then they stand back to admire the freshly groomed poodle. 

“Wow!” Victor pulls out his phone and starts snapping pictures as Makka sits back and poses dutifully. “You look so amazing,  _ myshka,  _ smile for the camera!” After a few dozen pictures, Victor pauses to smile up at Yuuri from where he’s crouched on the floor. “Thank you so much for your help, Yuuri. We’re in your debt.”

Yuuri barely tries to fight the giddy smile that bursts onto his own face. “Ah, it’s my job. I was happy to help.” 

 

After a hundred more pictures of Makka, both in the salon and in front of the Villa when Yuuri drives them back, Victor lets Makka back into his rooms and turns to face Yuuri. 

“Thank you again, Yuuri. Makka looks like a brand new dog and we both had fun with you this afternoon.”

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat but he stands up straight and puts on his best assistant-manager facade. “If you never need anything during your stay at Yutopia, any of our employees will be happy to assist you.” 

Yuuri is expecting a cordial (if a little flirty) goodbye, but Victor sticks out his bottom lip and pouts like a child. “But  _ Yuuuuuuri,  _ what if I need  _ your  _ help?” 

_ How the hell does he make pouting that sexy?  _ Yuuri’s inner-gay thinks hysterically. 

Victor takes a step forward and reaches for Yuuri’s hand, which the younger man instinctually offers. “I’ll always be around to help, as well,” Yuuri manages to squeak out. 

“Good,” Victor honest-to-goodness  _ purrs,  _ bringing Yuuri’s hand to his lips and pressing a chaste but maddeningly drawn-out kiss to his hand. Is it possible for someone to be so suddenly and completely turned on that they just  _ explode?  _ Because Yuuri is almost certain he’s going to combust any second. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes. 

There’s so little blood in Yuuri’s brain that he doesn’t really register how they part, only that Victor is a beautiful, ethereal blur of smooth words and silly smiles and laughs that Yuuri wishes he had recorded on a loop. By the time he snaps out of his Victor-induced haze, he’s halfway back to the main resort building on his golf cart. 

Yuuri just spent a good portion of the afternoon with Victor Nikiforov, the superstar plastered all over Yuuri’s bedroom. The World’s Most Eligible Bachelor  _ flirted  _ with him, smiled at him, kissed the back of his hand with his soft lips. The whole thing is so surreal that Yuuri feels like he’s on a different plane of existence, like he’s stuck in a dream. Only in his wildest dreams has he ever entertained the possibility of his favorite celebrity falling for him. Maybe, even if Victor was the type of guy who flirted with everyone, Yuuri could at least convince the beautiful star to go on one date with him, so Yuuri could have Victor to himself for just a little while—

A remembered fact about Victor Nikiforov pops into his head so suddenly, so violently, that Yuuri slams on the brakes of the golf cart, jolting the cart to a stop and slamming his chest into the steering wheel. 

Victor Nikiforov, the man who just spent the last few hours shamelessly flirting with Yuuri, is currently dating Anya Dahlia, Hollywood’s most formidable actress. 

Shit.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Yuuri is a little OOC because he has a different upbringing but it's not a huge change, he's just a little more confident than usual. Also, I really like hotels, so my descriptions may have gotten out of hand. I make no apologies, lol. 
> 
> Please visit me on Tumblr at amandundundun. And don't forget to kudos, comment, and/or subscribe. <3 Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Chapter title from "22" by Taylor Swift. Check the notes of the next chapter for info on how to find the Spotify playlist I'm making! :)


	3. nothing safe is worth the drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is officially smitten with Assistant Manager Yuuri but he's nowhere to be found. What went wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back-- and after only a week!  
> As always, my fic is unbeta'd and tentatively edited. Also, last week's chapter is abnormally long. From now on, chapter lengths will be closer to the length of the first chapter. Thanks for reading!

It’s been a week since Victor has seen Assistant Manager Yuuri. Despite looking for the other man everywhere he went, Yuuri has remained completely elusive. Victor was tempted a few times to ask another employee where he was, but that feels wrong and stalkerish. It's Yuuri's job to help resort guests when they ask and Victor doesn't want to use Yuuri's job to force the younger man to talk to him.

When Yuuri first walked through villa five's back gate last week, Victor had been quick to initiate a little harmless flirting with his Knight in Shining Armor, who blushed so prettily when Victor smiled at him and stared a little too long at the way Victor’s wet shirt clung to his skin. Afterall, Yuuri put the  _ ass  _ in “assistant manager”-- when he’d bent to move the rock propping open the gate Victor had to bite his lip to keep from gasping. And then there were those big chocolate eyes that blinked up at him in confusion and awe as Victor winked and smiled. 

But Victor probably would have left it at smooth words and blushing if Yuuri hadn’t been so sweet and fun to spend time with. At some point, the conversation and poodle-wrangling teamwork began to feel easy and Victor had surprised himself by telling Yuuri more about himself than he had told anybody in years. And Yuuri didn’t get uncomfortable or change the subject-- he’d easily given back as much as he’d gotten, his words soft and sure and sad, and the moment had washed over Victor like a wave and pulled him under. 

Now all he can think is:  _ Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.  _

Victor Nikiforov undeniably has a crush. 

It’s still a silly, mostly superficial thing, and Victor is old enough to understand that. Right now he just wants to see Yuuri again and be able to experience his beauty in person. And maybe, if Victor is lucky, the easy flirtation will turn into something more. How wonderful it would be to be loved by someone as beautiful and interesting as Yuuri. 

He discovered the day before that the regular pool area has a view of all of the main walkways of the resort, so today he’s laying in one of the fancy pool chairs and sipping unsweetened ice tea after unsweetened iced tea. The air today isn’t as cold as it was at the beginning of the week, but there's still a slight chill that raises bumps on Victor's skin every time a breeze passes. As a result, a majority of the patrons are across the property at the hot springs pools. 

Victor has considered switching locations multiple times out of discomfort but he doesn't want to risk missing Yuuri. Also, clothes and bathing suits aren't allowed in the hot springs and Victor isn't desperate enough to use nudity to lure Yuuri in (...yet). 

The sun gets lower and lower in the sky-- his phone battery is nearly dead and Makkachin has been at doggy-daycare for hours. He feels a pang of guilt-- he should be spending time with his sweet, loving dog, not chasing after a guy he just met like a stalker. 

Sighing, Victor stands up and collects his things, throwing his shirt and jogging pants back on and making his way to the main building to pick up Makkachin. 

She’s delighted to see him, making the guilt in his stomach even worse, but she also clearly loves the girl who has been watching her. Makka leaps up and gives her caretaker the people's version of a hug (scratchy paws to the chest and a slimy kiss) before they go. 

Victor tries to brush the guilty feeling away as much as possible. He’ll stop staking out the pool (it didn’t work, anyway) and hope he sees Yuuri while going about his daily business. Victor will just have to make sure his daily business takes place  _ all  _ over the property and with Makka in tow. Nobody can resist Makka's silky curls and signature puppy eyes, and as a poodle-lover Yuuri will surely have a hard time staying away.

Before they leave, the dogsitter mentions that Makka hasn’t eaten dinner yet so Victor takes her to the dining room and they sit at the bar, Makka waiting patiently for her bowl at his feet. 

The bartender is young, probably just old enough to drink, with dark hair and skin. He doesn’t seem Japanese but he speaks it fluently to another guest. When he’s finished with the other guest he heads toward Victor, recognition sparking in his eyes but his expression staying the same. “Hey, what can I get you?” he asks in flawless English-- just as flawless as Victor expects his Japanese is, from what he was able to hear. His smile is easy and Victor can feel the charm rolling off of him in waves-- he seems like he should be a pop idol living in California, not a bartender in Japan. 

“What do you recommend?” Victor asks, his eyes skimming over the menu in front of him, which he hasn’t actually looked at yet. 

“My recommendation is  _ always  _ our house sake, which is Japanese rice wine. It’s made right here in Hasetsu by a local family and it’s excellent. They even do tours of their winery if you’re interested in that sort of thing.” This bartender is effortlessly charismatic and Victor already wants to leave him a very big tip for being so knowledgeable and putting him at ease. Maybe this  _ is _ the perfect profession for him. 

“Sounds great,” Victor answers honestly. As the bartender takes a bottle from under the bar and sets it and a tiny cup in front of Victor, he asks if Victor would like food, as well, and Victor orders himself the night’s special and Makka the pet special. 

“So,” the bartender adds as he writes down Victor’s order, “I’ve seen you walking around looking a little lost the last few days. Is there anything I can help you find?” There’s a mischievous glint in the young man’s eyes that suddenly and violently reminds Victor of Chris. 

“I was just looking for someone I met last week,” Victor says, straightening up and busying himself with pouring another sip of sake, hoping he’s not turning red. “I’ll find him eventually.” 

Maybe he should ask the bartender about Yuuri. They might be friends— and probably are based on the bartender’s suspicious interest. But he also doesn’t want this guy going back to Yuuri and making Victor seem like a creep.

The bartender full-out smirks as a result of Victor’s hesitation and Victor stiffens a little. So the bartender leans back and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Alright, well, my name is Phichit, let me know if you need  _ any  _ help finding this guy,” he says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Well, this Phichit obviously knows something Victor doesn’t. It’s a little off-putting but suddenly Victor desperately wants to know if Yuuri has said something about him. He starts to introduce himself, “I’m Victor--”

“Oh I know exactly who you are,” Phichit interrupts, and Victor winces. But the younger man continues undeterred, “You're the reason Yuuri has been dodging around the resort and blushing like a pre-teen for the last week.”

Phichit’s bluntness leaves Victor a little dazed. “Really?” he asks, hope swelling in his chest. “Why is he--” 

But before Victor can ask why Yuuri is avoiding him, Phichit spins on his heel and hurries back toward the kitchen. “I’ll go put in this order for you,” he says over his shoulder and disappears into the back. 

Victor sits there a little stunned until Makka noses his hand, wanting scratches. As he complies and sips his sake he runs through his and Phichit’s conversation over and over. Yuuri has been avoiding him, but also “blushing like a pre-teen.” What did that mean? Was he just star-struck? Was he embarrassed? Was he interested in Victor the way Victor was interested in him? 

Phichit doesn’t return for a maddeningly long time, and when he does he’s busy refreshing the drinks of the other guests and can’t spare Victor more than a glance to make sure his sake doesn’t need refilling. Eventually, Victor is done eating and so is Makka, and the dining room is filling up with guests and Phichit is busier than ever. Makka is impatient for a walk now that she’s done eating and Victor can’t put off leaving for much longer. 

Victor sighs and leaves Phichit a sizable tip before he leaves. 

 

His phone nearly buzzes off the bedside table at 2 o’clock early Friday morning and as soon as Victor sees the caller he groans. 

He forgot to tell his mother he was going to Japan. 

It’s not like Victor doesn’t love his mother-- they just don’t talk a lot. Mama is busy with her new wife, her new role on a Canadian soap opera, her three badly-behaved terrier dogs, and her functions as the wife of the town mayor. Victor is busy winning Academy Awards and throwing himself into every project he can find so he doesn’t think about the fact that he’s almost thirty and has never been in a relationship. They’re both busy. 

“ _ Da, mama,”  _ he answers. 

“Vitya? Are you still in bed? Isn’t it already nine in the morning?” Mama sounds like she’s driving-- she’s practically yelling as she uses her hands-free setting. Victor angles the phone away from his ear. 

“Sorry, mama. I forgot to tell you I’m spending some time in Japan.” 

Mama doesn’t ask what time it is in Japan or even apologize for waking Victor up. “Oh? What project are you working on, this time?” 

Victor rubs his face and tries very hard not to sigh. Many mothers who get their children into acting when they’re still in diapers like his mother had done with him are trying to live vicariously through their kids. They push and push and push their offspring, yell at casting directors and interns, and manage their kids’ careers with terrifying tenacity. Mama Nikiforov remains a haunting urban legend in the show business community to this day.

Victor and his mother didn’t talk for almost two years after Victor kicked her out of his management team shortly after he’d turned eighteen. He just hadn’t been able to handle it anymore-- his father wasn’t in the picture, his mother acted more like a boss than a parent-- the only parental figure Victor had seemed to be Yakov, whom he actually  _ was  _ paying to manage him. It got to be too much. Victor just needed a mother. 

They had patched things up eventually, of course, but she’s still the same person. Mama may be less direct and forceful these days but she’s still constantly pushing Victor to be better and do more. Sometimes this is a good support system to have, but Victor just knows Mama won’t be happy with him taking a vacation, even if it’s necessary for him to get away so he doesn’t break down entirely. 

“My next project is a theatrical play,” he says. It’s not a lie-- writing a play for the stage is next on his list of things to try in show business. He even has a few rough outlines on his computer-- he just doesn’t tell her that he’s intending to take six months to a year off before he actually puts the play in motion. 

“Oh, good. I know a few people who work in the Toronto Theatre District and I think you should…” 

Victor spends almost an hour listening to his mother list all of her contacts (several times each) and all of her experience with theatre, then launching into all the reasons why Victor needs to keep moving forward and “set showbusiness ablaze” in order to fulfill his potential, honor his ancestors, end world hunger-- Victor honestly tunes out five minutes in. 

But even after she hangs up, saying her wife will be home soon and they have plans for dinner (failing to hang up until she’s told Victor all about the restaurant they’re going to, what she’s ordering, everything she’s ever ordered from there and exactly why the restaurant owner owes her a favor), Victor can’t go back to sleep. 

He’s never wanted to disappoint his mother and he hates lying to her. He used to worship her when he was little-- he would watch every episode of every cheesy television show she’d ever appeared in, memorize the jingles from the commercials she danced for, brag to all of his friends that his mother was the best actress in the whole world. And even though a lot of that hero-worship is gone now that he no longer sees her through the eyes of a child, he still wants to impress her and have her praise him like she does every time his movie wins an award or he appears on her favorite talk shows. Maybe that’s why he’s done the things he’s done to get famous-- why he’s thrown himself into this industry without regard to his own life and love. 

But it’s too late to regret his path in life now, he tells himself now that he’s in the cold morning light. At night he can justify lying awake and thumbing through all of his mistakes, wondering how his life would be different if he’d been allowed to be a child, a teen, a young adult, rather than a public figure. When the sun’s out he has to put those thoughts away in a box or he’ll never survive. 

 

A few hours later, Victor drops Makkachin off at the daycare center with lots of hugs and apologetic kisses. The center employee from the day before-- Fumi, her name tag says-- insists that Makka will be well-taken care of and loved. “I have lots of activities planned for her,” she assures him. “She’ll be very busy, don’t worry. We had fun on Wednesday.” And Fumi hands Makka a treat and wins her love for life. 

With Makka distracted, Victor slips out and takes a car to the airport. It’s still early, the pink sunrise peeking above the glimmering sea. This area really is beautiful, with its clear sea and sky, and it’s already made itself a special place in Victor’s heart. 

Chris had been the one to suggest Japan for Victor’s extended vacation. He’s currently living in Tokyo with his husband, a successful producer of Japanese television. Chris has worked in Japan as a music video director for nearly five years now, frequently visiting Victor in California for individual projects, but he’s very popular among Japanese popstars and loves the creative and sensational visual stories he can create for the songs.  

“Americans don’t understand my vision,” he said once, sorrowfully. “The Japanese don’t appreciate blatant sensuality, really, but they do appreciate  _ abstract  _ sensuality and I find that it’s very creatively fulfilling.” 

Victor never thought he’d see the day that Chris stopped creating raunchy, uncomfortably sexual music videos but he isn’t complaining. If Chris is happy toning things down now that he has steady work and acclaim in his industry, then Victor is happy for him. 

And when Victor had told Chris he was staying at Yutopia, Chris had immediately invited Victor to visit him as often as possible-- and that Chris’s first available day was the second Friday Victor would spend in Japan. They hashed out the details quickly after that-- Victor would take an early plane and arrive in time to meet Chris and his husband for breakfast at their favorite cafe. Then while Chris’s husband went to work, Chris and Victor would take the city by storm until early the next morning and after passing out in Chris’s guest room Victor would return to Hasetsu on Saturday while Chris went back to work. 

Chris is probably Victor’s only real friend, so he’s excited to see him. But he’s also exhausted from barely sleeping the night before, and despite the frankly dangerous amount of espresso shots he’d put in his coffee this morning his body is still unwilling to fully wake up. It’s strange-- he must have gotten soft in the last week because Victor is used to operating on little sleep due to chronic insomnia during his projects. He hadn’t thought he’d have to worry about that while on vacation, though. He manages to take a short nap on the plane, but the trip is only about two hours and his hour-long rest only serves to make his eyelids heavier.

Chris stands out in the Tokyo airport. Not even because he’s not Japanese-- there are several groups of foreign tourists hanging around the waiting area. But Chris is easily six feet tall, his curls adding another one or two inches, and he’s dressed like he’s performing in one of his own music videos, as usual. His white button-down is too big and the sleeves are patterned with metallic flowers, his neck is draped with about 5 silk scarves with more colors and patterns than Victor can count, and he’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses. 

“Victor, mon cherie!” Chris cries as Victor wraps him in a hug. “You already look so much healthier than you did a few weeks ago-- if a little tired.” 

“Yes, my mother called last night,” Victor reveals, and Chris gives him a sympathetic squeeze. 

“We’ll make you forget whatever crazy thing she said, no?” he finally releases Victor and links their arms together. “Masumi is waiting for us in the car, he had to take a call,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. “It’s his one work call allowed until he actually goes back to work.” Chris pulls Victor through the station, his exuberance quickly wiping away Victor’s fatigue. 

 

“Aha!” 

Yuuri is tackled from behind and nearly loses his footing. He clutches his coffee desperately, praying to every god he doesn’t believe in that it doesn’t spill on his shirt and force him to go home and change (or the hospital for a skin graft-- he  _ just  _ reheated his cup). 

“Whoops, sorry,” Phichit says, finally noticing Yuuri’s mug and letting go. Yuuri notes bitterly that he doesn’t sound very sorry. 

“What’s up, Peach,” Yuuri asks tiredly. He hasn’t been getting much sleep lately-- Minako sent him another round of expense reports from the hotel she and his parents are currently inspecting and he’s been shut up in the office for a week trying to sort them out. He’s pretty sure Minako purposely sent them out of order and with very little context-- she’s trying to make sure he knows what he’s getting into by going for a finance position right out of college. She’s still not happy with him for abandoning his original plan. 

It doesn’t matter now, his childhood dream had been unrealistic, anyway. 

“You look like shit,” Phichit notes as he moves toward the refrigerator.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “I told you, Minako wants my analysis by Monday and she’s made it nearly impossible on purpose.” 

“ _ And  _ trying to avoid a certain silver-haired mega-hottie is probably not the most efficient way to get your assistant manager duties done,” Phichit adds, plopping down on the employee lounge couch with his phone and a canned coffee. 

“N-no! I haven’t been avoiding him, I’m really busy!” Yuuri insists, but his voice comes out a little too high and shaky for him to sound believable. 

Phichit just hums and turns his phone around to show Yuuri a picture of Victor and Christophe Giacometti posing in front of Haneda Airport in **Ōta**. Even at seven-thirty in the morning, Victor is unfairly beautiful, a big genuine smile on his face as he embraces his friend. 

“If you hadn’t hidden all week you could be in Tokyo with Victor right now, being introduced to his best friend as Victor’s fiance,” Phichit teases. “You know Minako and Yuuko would encourage you to slack off a little with how hard you’ve been working this year-- or really since you started college. Especially if you were using your free time to go after your one true love.” 

Yuuri can feel himself blushing spectacularly even as he scowls at his friend. “That’s a bit of a stretch,” he says dryly. 

Phichit just shrugs. “Guess we’ll never know now.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes again and moves toward the door. “See you later, Peach.” 

“ _ Nooo,  _ Yuuri!” Phichit protests, jumping up and following his friend into the hall. “You need to talk to Victor again when he gets back-- before he loses interest! Who else gets a chance to date their celebrity crush? I need to live vicariously through you!” 

“He only flirted a little,” Yuuri says, shaking his head. He passes into the management office and sits down at his desk, which is completely heaped with papers-- save a small spot to place his coffee cup. “Also, he’s dating Anya Dahlia. I had forgotten the day I met him and I just misread the signs, that’s all.” He doesn’t manage to admit this out loud without feeling a little pang of disappointment. 

“Please, son-of-mine, who goes on an extended vacation without their serious girlfriend, hmm? You know as well as I do that the hotel needs a list of all guests who plan on staying in a room at any time and Victor and Makka are the only ones registered for Villa five.” 

“That doesn’t really mean anything. He could add her at any time, or go visit her in California.” 

“You’re the one who was telling me all about that conspiracy theory that says all of Victor’s girlfriends have been fakes--”

“No, no! I was drunk when I told you that!” Yuuri interrupts, nearly knocking a stack of papers off of his desk, “I just saw it on the internet somewhere and thought they made some good points, but you never know when it comes to Tumblr--” 

“Please, you also told me that you did your own research and came to the same conclusion.” 

Yuuri buries his face in his hands with a groan. “I’m such a crazy fanboy. Even if he  _ did  _ break up with Anya or was never dating her in the first place and by some miracle he  _ is  _ interested in me, he would still run screaming when he inevitably found out how obsessed I am with him.”

“Well, maybe,” Phichit says with a shrug. “Or maybe he’ll find it sweet. You just admire his work-- you may own an embarrassing amount of posters, and you named your dog after him, and you have deluxe copies of all of his movies, and--”

“I get it!” Yuuri groans, cutting his friend off. 

“No, but, seriously, you’re just passionate, Yuuri! When you find something that interests you you throw all of your attention at it. It’s not like you’ve lost touch with reality. At the very least, you could be friends with him.” 

Yuuri just presses the heels of his hands harder against his eyes. He’s had such a big crush on Victor as a celebrity for so long that the thought of being friends with him seems odd. Honestly, he just wants to make it through the next few weeks until his parents and Minako come home and he can start training for his future position as CFO. Then his chances of seeing Victor again will drop significantly and he won’t have to worry about this anymore. 

It’s silly, anyway, to think Victor would want to date someone like Yuuri. Sure, Yuuri is the son of the owner and CEO of an international hotel chain, but Victor is a worldwide star with millions of fans and literally every beautiful single person out there willing to date him. Anya Dahlia may be rumored to be an unkind person behind closed doors, but who’s to say Victor isn’t, as well? Sure, he seemed incredibly sweet and fun and interesting during their time spent together, but Victor  _ is  _ an actor.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to him one more time before you dismiss the possibility?” Phichit says finally. 

“If I say yes will you let me get back to work?” Yuuri grumbles. 

“Sure!” Phichit chirps, jumping out of his chair. “But I’m going to hold you to it. You won’t know peace until you follow through,” he adds ominously and slips through the door. 

 

Just a few years ago, Chris would’ve dragged Victor to a club to end their night. But he must sense Victor isn’t up to being around so many strangers and possible fans-- being married really has matured him. Instead, they end up in a karaoke room and Victor is delighted. He’s been to Japan several times and Tokyo at least twice but he’s never been in a karaoke room before. 

After a day of touring the city Victor is more than happy to sit on the plush couches in the premium room Chris has rented for the night and sip fruity cocktails while he watches Chris and his friends sing. Even Masumi is dressed in jeans and holding a beer, and Victor doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man in anything less than a casual suit. 

But Chris’s industry friends are delightful and a few of them are professional vocalists so listening to them sing is like being at a private concert. Victor even joins in for a few songs, even though he can’t sing at all. 

It’s around midnight when Chris collapses next to Victor on the couch, insisting that his friends carry on without him. “How are you doing,  _ mon cherie?”  _ Chris asks seriously, his words slurring a little. 

“Karaoke was a great idea,” Victor says. He’s pleasantly drunk, himself, and even though he hasn’t been participating as much as the others he’s having a lot of fun. 

“No, no, no,” Chris says, waving his hands. “How are  _ you  _ doing, Victor? In  _ life?”  _

His huge green eyes are so wide and sincere that Victor has to suppress a giggle. “I’ve been well. I really enjoy the resort Jess found for me.” 

Chris bobs his head and attempts to capture his straw with his mouth. “Mmm, she’s a good travel agent.” He succeeds and takes a long drink. “Have you made any friends or are you just spending all of your time with Makkachin?”

“Makkachin is the best friend a man could ask for,” Victor replies with a sniff. “A few of the employees are nice to talk to, though.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “If they get paid to talk to you then they aren’t your friend. Especially if you tip them afterward.” 

Victor scoffs, “I’ve only been there a little over a week! I’ve been enjoying my solitude. Besides, I had a very quality conversation with the assistant manager the other day.” 

Chris gasps and clutches Victor’s arm, almost spilling both of their drinks. “Did you already sleep with a resort employee?” 

“Gah, no! Why would you assume that?” Victor asks, bewildered. 

Chris just grasps Victor’s arm tighter and narrows his eyes, searching Victor’s expression for signs of a lie. He must not find one because he lets go after a moment and leans back. “Well, maybe you haven’t yet, but with that blush, you’ve definitely thought about it.” 

“No, I wouldn’t say I’ve thought about  _ sleeping  _ with him…” Victor says slowly. And he wouldn’t-- at this point, he’s just focused on getting Yuuri to talk to him again, and he tells Chris as much. 

“What’s stopping you from talking to him?” Chris asks. 

“He’s been avoiding me,” Victor responds quietly. “I don’t know why. I thought he was interested when we met, and I’ve never had such an easy conversation with someone I’ve just met, either, plus he’s  _ gorgeous  _ and I just want to speak with him one more time to see if the connection was just a fluke or--” 

Chris stops him with another waving hand, “Is he avoiding you or is he just busy? Because the answer greatly changes the advice I’ll give.” 

Victor tells Chris about his encounter with Phichit the bartender, and what he had said about Yuuri dodging around the resort and blushing. 

Humming in thought, Chris doesn’t answer for a moment. “It sounds like he’s interested-- maybe he’s just shy? Or nervous? Or maybe he’s not really friends with this Phichit and you’re being misinformed.” 

Victor sighs and reaches forward to snatch the ordering tablet off of the table in front of him. He needs another drink. 

“Do you think I really like him at all?” Victor muses out loud as he sends through an order for another round of drinks for the group. “Or am I just desperate for a relationship after dealing with Anya?” 

Chris hums again, drinking and bobbing his head to the music. Victor isn’t actually even sure he heard him until Chris’s head shoots up and his eyes go wide in realization. “Oh, no! Has your breakup with Anya been made public, yet?” 

Fuck. 

Victor scrambles for his phone-- he had told Anya the arrangement was over through text over a week ago and he’d figured she’d agreed when she didn’t respond with a scathing denial. But a quick Google search reveals that Anya hasn’t followed through. He groans. “I could tell he was a fan, too! I bet that’s why he’s avoiding me-- he thinks I’m a cheat and a flirt.” 

“Well, there-ya-go,” Chris cheers. “Just make sure the whole world knows that you’re not with Anya and maybe he’ll stop avoiding you. Or!” He stops Victor before he can respond, “You could just tell him the truth-- that it was all publicity and you never liked her and you want to have babies with him.” 

Victor wrinkles his nose. “Mm, maybe puppies instead of babies. But I’ll try to talk to Anya again, first.” 

“Good, good, good. Now you did order me another Chardonnay,  _ oui?”  _

 

Victor texts Anya immediately after Chris leaves his side to sing another song-- it’s still the morning of the previous day in LA, so he’s sure she’ll get the message right away. He even runs the text by the only sober person in the room-- Masumi-- before he sends it. 

_ Anya, I’d like to publicize the end of our arrangement by Monday. _

It’s after three in the morning-- Victor and Chris are being herded into a cab by Masumi-- when he gets a response. 

_ I don’t remember ever agreeing to end the arrangement.  _

“Damn her!” Victor curses out loud (possibly in Russian), and Chris explodes into giggles. 

_ If you don’t end this now, I will. You may not like my methods.  _

“Yikes,” Chris says. He’s been reading over Victor’s shoulder as they cruise through the light city traffic. “Go, Victor!” 

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” Victor asks. He’s starting to feel a little guilty about threatening her because he doesn’t really like being so mean to anybody, but the guilt is minimal. 

“No way!” Chris growls. “I would’ve already thrown her under the train if it were me.” 

“The saying is “under the bus,” darling,” Masumi reminds gently. 

Chris turns to his husband and beams, fluttering his long lashes in adoration. “Yes, thank you  _ mon amour.  _ You’re so good to me.” 

Masumi smiles gently back and pushes Chris’s disheveled curls from his face, leaning in for a brief kiss. 

Victor’s heart aches at the exchange— such a simple interaction, but so filled with domesticity and love. He wants a partner to love him and care for him and look at him as if he’s the most precious thing on the planet.

In a moment of frustration, he sends Yakov a text, as well.  _ I want you to end my arrangement with Anya as soon as possible, even if she doesn’t cooperate.  _

He needs to be free from her  _ now.  _ Not just so he has a chance with Yuuri, but so he can have a chance at  _ anything  _ substantial at all.

 

The next afternoon, when Chris drops Victor off at the airport, Chris lifts up his huge dark sunglasses and levels a serious look at him with his tired red eyes. 

“Do what you need to do to find your happiness, Victor,” he says seriously. “You deserve it.” 

“Thank you, my friend,” Victor says and wraps the other man in a tight hug. “Even if it doesn’t work out with Yuuri, I fully intend to stop playing games.”

“Good.” 

It’s not until Victor gets on the plane and settles into his seat that he pulls out his phone and sees the text from Yakov. 

_ We need to discuss this in person.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Treacherous" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> My playlist is still super short, but I'll be adding more songs in the upcoming days!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1QrdrEMoIoix4dyxWQBtkC?si=z1ExLboeSQ60jyJAIIn77g


	4. never a clean break, no one here to save me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor intends to explain everything to Yuuri-- but first, he has to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaAAAAck. :3
> 
> When it rains, it pours, and I'm just emerging from a shit-storm. Everything, good and bad, that has been on the horizon for the past few years happened at once and I've been emotionally exhausted. But now I'm back with another chapter, and hopefully /another/ chapter will soon follow. Thanks to anybody still following!

Victor calls Yakov late in the evening, just as Yakov would be arriving at his office in Los Angeles. 

“I’m not coming back to California, Yakov,” Victor says as soon as he answers. 

“Hello to you, too,” the old manager grumbles. “And yes, you are, if you want this arrangement to end without bloodshed. Anya and her team are determined to milk the relationship for all it’s worth and they’re convinced that ending it now would do more harm than good. And they’re not wrong, Vitya.” 

Victor silently fumes for a moment before taking a deep breath to avoid yelling at his oldest ally. “I don’t care,” he says finally. “I don’t want anything to do with Anya ever again.”

“You need to think about this rationally, boy,” Yakov says in his usual no-arguments tone. “I know she’s a terrible person to work with but if you end things without her permission she could eviscerate you in the press. No matter what you say in defense your career would take a huge hit. Disappearing from view for months on end is already bad enough. You can’t afford to lose your reputation  _ and  _ your momentum all at once.” 

“I don’t want to ‘improve’ my career this way, anymore. I want to succeed without ruining my chances for happiness,” Victor insists. 

“Don’t be a child, you know it doesn’t work that way. You made a decision to get in bed with her last year and now you have to lie there. You can’t go back now.” 

Yakov’s metaphor sends a violent shudder down his spine, settling in his stomach and making him feel ill. It’s too accurate-- he feels trapped, used, uncomfortable in every way. Looking at Anya makes him feel weak and small. Knowing people think he’s in love with her is sickening. When he had first agreed to the arrangement he had been desperate-- he was alone and uninspired--  _ Stammi Vicino  _ was his last great idea and getting it out there had seemed like the most important thing in the world. He thought, irrationally, that his problems would be solved if the world saw his greatest work, the film that was a depiction of his soul. 

But when the curtains closed after the premiere-- when the whispers of awe and loud applause and congratulations were over-- he had realized that all he’d done was paint his sadness and discontent on a canvas and hung it in a museum so everybody could call him a genius. 

It wasn’t about genius or talent or hard work, in the end. It was about the gaping hole in his life that nobody seemed to notice-- that nobody noticed even after he had pulled back the curtain and showed them. 

Even after he’d bared his soul, nobody came to his rescue. They just asked--  _ what’s next?  _

The desperation began to crawl back into his mind as he heard Yakov tell him that he wasn’t free-- that even after trying to turn his back on the chasm and thinking he’d escaped, it turned out he was still trapped.

“No, I can’t, Yakov,” he says, horrified to hear his controlled tone break and let a little panic bleed through. Yakov is silent in response, and Victor can’t stop himself from confessing, “I just can’t do this anymore.”

Finally Yakov sighs. There's pity in his voice when he speaks. “I’ll see what I can do. But I need you to be sure that this is what you need to do, because the result may not be pretty.” 

Victor drops his hand into Makka’s fur. She had been curled up at the end of the bed for most of the conversation but has now crawled over and draped herself in Victor’s lap like a warm weighted blanket. Her presence is steadying. 

“Thank you, Yakov,” he says quietly. “I’ll handle the fallout.” 

“No, Vitya,” Yakov snaps. “ _ We  _ will handle the fallout. Now go to sleep, you sound like shit.” And he hangs up without another word. 

Victor smiles a little at his phone. He has good people in his life. 

  
  


But Monday comes and goes and there’s still no news from Yakov or Anya. Anya has stopped responding to Victor’s texts and Yakov keeps responding,  _ be patient.  _

Victor is ready to start his life  _ now.  _ He hates feeling trapped like this. He wants to go ask Yuuri on a date, or even just go out on the town without being worried that somebody in the press or a fan will spot him and ask  _ where’s Anya?  _

At this point he’d probably respond,  _ hopefully nowhere within a thousand miles.  _

His mind keeps going through all of the shitty things Anya has done and said to him-- when he was just eighteen and she told him he was beautiful and talented and that she could make him the world’s biggest star. That they would be the perfect power couple and rule Hollywood together. And then she’d turn around and snap that he was being immature, that he wasn’t good enough, that he should be honored she chose him and ashamed that he is overshadowing her or embarrassing her. It was a sharp, violent rollercoaster that never ended, and Victor still felt the stomach-churning effects to this day.

He would try to explain this to his mother and she would just ask,  _ don’t you want to be the best? Don’t you want to succeed? Don’t you want to make me proud? You need to make connections, and Anya is the biggest star out there right now. She sees potential in you and she’s just trying to make you better, like I make you better. You should let her.  _

Let. Allow. Stand aside and be grateful that someone else is running his life. Back then, Yakov had encouraged Victor to get rid of Anya and also fire his mother as part of his management team. Yakov had told him that Hollywood stars need to be strong and decisive and never let other people make decisions for them.  _ You need to be a man now and take your career back for yourself,  _ Yakov had said.  _ Otherwise nobody will respect you. Then, when Anya inevitably drops you, you’ll become nothing.  _

Why is it different this time? Just because he’s well-established he’s suddenly allowed to be used by other people again? No, he knows it’s different this time. Last time it had been about appearing strong but now it’s about not attracting negative press. This is no longer “Popular child star becomes a strong contender for fame” but “World famous Victor Nikiforov-- playboy and womanizer?” 

Fuck. 

 

During the days Victor goes to the dining room for all three meals, drinks copious amounts of coffee and a still-socially-acceptable-but-pushing-it amount of alcohol. He takes Makka on walks and works out in the gym and texts Yakov and Chris, passing out with exhaustion for a few hours at a time in between while the sun is still up and Victor still has his worries locked away. He even spots Yuuri once, laughing with Phichit down an employees-only hallway. Their eyes meet for a moment and Victor’s chest nearly caves in with the force of confusing emotions running through him. 

Yuuri gives him a little wave and then hurries away, his face red. Phichit shakes his head and shrugs toward Victor. 

He briefly considers searching for another man to turn his attention toward, but all he can think about are those caramel eyes. 

At night his thoughts escape their jail and tear apart his mind and he lays in bed alternating between tears and silent acceptance of his fate. He hears his mother telling him that Anya is the best thing to ever happen to him and that his life’s work will be meaningless if he lets his career slide down the drain. He hears Yakov tell him to  _ just be patient  _ and  _ this will be a bloodbath.  _ He scrolls through social media and reads every article he can find about his own disappearance from Hollywood and social media-- the speculation that he ran out on Anya, that he’s quitting show business for good, that he’s realized he can never top  _ Stammi Vicino  _ and has gone to live in the Amazon jungle. On Twitter and Instagram his fans beg him to post more videos. They ask if he’s sick or if he’s heartbroken or if he’s having an affair with Chris. 

Everyone is talking about him even though Victor left to get away from the noise. 

Late on the second night of this Victor can’t take it any longer and he climbs out of bed. Makka raises her head in confusion. 

"Do you want to go on a walk?" Victor whispers in the dark, even though he's the only one in the villa. 

Makka turns to look at the window pointedly, as if saying,  _ Um, do you even know what time it is?? _ And then she tucks her head under a pillow and falls back asleep. She has her routines and hates to break them, and after spending most of the last few days walking aimlessly and dealing with Victor’s shitty mood she doesn’t seem to want to make another exception. 

As he gets redressed he tries to decide what to do. The pool and community hot springs are closed, as is the dining room. He could walk along the beach but it’s a new moon and he probably wouldn’t be able to see. The gym is open at all hours but Victor is too tired to work out. He isn’t sure if anything would even be open in town. So he wanders toward the all-hours lounge-- maybe somebody will be there to talk to, or he can just try the Japanese snacks they stock there or read a book or magazine provided. 

It’s three in the morning and the lounge is empty and quiet-- cold and lit with yellow light and feeling distinctly outside of time in the most uncomfortable way. It’s off-putting and all of the snacks suddenly look unappetizing and the books boring. 

He’s just about to give up and try to use his phone flashlight to walk the beach when he hears a door shut somewhere in the distance.  _ Human life!  _

Victor hasn’t really talked to anyone at the hotel since he got back from Tokyo. He isn’t known for being introverted-- in fact, he’s the opposite. He loves talking to people and learning about their lives and experiences. He may not share much about himself with anybody but Makkachin, but he can’t survive long without some sort of meaningful socialization. 

Following the sound of movement and low voices, Victor wanders down the hallways and finds himself in the dining room. The door to the kitchen is propped open by a porter as he chats in Japanese with whoever is inside the kitchen. He notices Victor walk in immediately and starts acting a little flustered, lowering his head, grabbing a cart filled with plates and hurrying past Victor with a quick,  _ “Gomen!” _

A tall, broad, dark man leans out of the kitchen and spots Victor, his eyebrows rising in surprise. He’s wearing a white coat embroidered with the Yutopia logo, so he must be the chef on duty. His eyes widen in mild surprise when he spots Victor. “Mr. Nikiforov? What can I do for you?” 

Victor freezes-- he hadn’t thought this far. He’d just been hoping for some human interaction, but the chef is busy doing his job. 

“Oh, um-- I don’t--” Shit, Victor is so tired he’s stammering. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”

But the chef just nods in understanding. “Come on, I have just the thing for you.”

Victor hesitates for a beat before following the chef into the pristine kitchen, painted a soft yellow and filled with modern stainless steel appliances. The chef moves immediately toward a kettle set to the side-- it’s an older model, probably used only for employees because of its small size. He’s filling it with water already when he says, “Oh, you do like tea, right?” 

Victor can’t suppress a smile. “Yes, very much. That sounds wonderful, thank you.” 

The chef grins and sets the kettle on the stove. “I’m Nishigori Takeshi, you can call me Nishigori.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Nishigori. Please call me Victor. It’s very kind of you to go to this trouble.” 

Nishigori just laughs-- a booming sound in the quiet kitchen. “Nah, it’s my job. You just saved our porter the trouble of bringing it to you and I get to talk to somebody other than an eighteen-year-old who can’t stop talking about his cat.”

Victor laughs, too. “I know one of those, back in California. Although he was more entertaining than the other people I was working with while on that project, for sure.” 

“Wouldn’t happen to be that blond kid in your movie that’s coming out, would it? He posts so many Instagram pictures of his cat that my kids won’t stop begging for their own.”

“Their own Instagram, or their own cat?” Victor finds himself asking. For the last few weeks Victor has cringed every time someone had made it clear they know who he is, but Nishigori brings it up so casually that Victor feels like he's talking to a good friend. Or, at the very least, someone who understands Victor is a person.

“Oh, definitely the cat. They’re only nine but somehow they’ve had an Instagram for  _ years.  _ My wife decided we’d just check their profile every once in a while to make sure they’re not following anybody inappropriate-- it was a compromise for them agreeing to keep their grades up.” Nishigori’s explanation sounds very rehearsed, like he’s had to justify allowing his nine-year-olds on social media a hundred times. 

But Victor has been around so many child stars with so much freedom that an Instagram account frankly sounded tame. “So if  _ they  _ are nine-- does that mean you have twins?” he asks instead of commenting on the Instagram. 

“Triplets,” Nishigori responds solemnly. 

It takes all of Victor’s self control not to make a sympathetic sound. As a young adult, he made a lot of those when people around him talked about their children-- he found they usually don’t appreciate that kind of reaction. “That sounds-- like a challenge,” he says instead. 

“What an understatement,” Nishigori snorts. “I’m lucky my wife is so good at dealing with them.” 

“I’m guessing you don’t need a cat as well, though.” 

“No way. But at least they’re not asking for a dog anymore-- that one was actually your fault.” He points a large finger at Victor playfully. “Until they discovered that blond kid’s cat they were asking for a poodle and that was  _ definitely  _ not going to happen.” 

Victor’s laugh is so sudden and genuine that he almost surprises himself, but Nishigori doesn’t seem surprised-- he just turns to pull out a tin of loose tea. He continues, “Actually, I had my wife asking for a poodle, too. I think she said she met you when you first checked in-- she’s the manager, Yuuko.” 

“Oh, Yuuko!” Victor claps his hands together. “She’s been so kind, and Makka loves her. Maybe you  _ do  _ need a poodle.” 

“Gah, no! Not you, too. If you tell her  _ you  _ approve then we’ll definitely end up with a dog.” Nishigori groans as he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water into two mugs. “Our house is chaotic enough as it is.” 

“I’m flattered that I have the ability to cause such chaos,” Victor jokes. 

Nishigori heaves a joking sigh and pushes a cup of tea toward Victor. “You don’t even know. Yuuko will probably kill me for saying this but she’s been a big fan of yours since we were young. She and our friend used to collect your movie posters when we were kids-- it became a bit of a competition between them but she could never beat Yuuri.” 

“Yuuri?” Victor’s head shoots up at the sound of the mysterious man’s name. 

“Yes, you’ve probably met him. He’s the assistant manager here.” 

“He collected my posters?” Victor said, his voice a little faint. A warm feeling was spreading in his stomach-- he hasn’t felt so flattered by someone being a fan of his for a long time. If Yuuri is such a big fan-- well that means he already likes Victor in some way, even if it isn’t quite romantic.

“Oh, yeah. Try 'collects,' present tense. I bet he has them all.” 

Victor nearly explodes with happiness. 

Nishigori doesn’t miss Victor’s giddy smile. A mischievous grin spreads across his face and Victor is acutely reminded of Phichit. “Oh, so you  _ have  _ met Yuuri.”

Victor quickly brings the tea to his mouth and takes a sip, pretty much scalding his tongue and causing him to splutter. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” Nishigori says smugly. Victor decides the chef is  _ way  _ too excited to have found out that Victor has a crush on Yuuri. “Speaking of hot, that Yuuri, huh?” 

It’s a good thing Victor doesn’t have liquid in his mouth anymore because he almost certainly would’ve choked, especially since Nishigori is now waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He looks ridiculous-- he’s such a broad, solemn-looking man that Victor didn’t expect him to be able to make such silly faces. 

Since Victor is just sitting there with his mouth open turning red while also trying not to laugh, Nishigori continues. “So, why haven’t you asked him out, then? I definitely would’ve heard about it if you had.” 

Victor slouches a little with a sigh. Nishigori might as well hear how hopeless Victor is. “He’s been avoiding me, I think. I may have-- messed up.” 

Nishigori raises those versatile brows. “How’d you do that?” 

“I, uh. Forgot that most people think I’m still dating Anya Dahlia and didn’t make it clear to him that that’s over. Or at least that’s what I hope is wrong, then at least I might still have a chance.” 

“Mm, no, that’s probably it. I mean, you should talk to him, because nobody alive can guess what’s going on in that boy’s head most of the time, but telling him you’re not dating anyone would probably help.” 

“Ah but-- how do I get him to talk to me long enough to explain?” Victor sighs. 

“Hmm,” Nishigori sets his elbows on the table and rubs his chin. “Do you have any exclusive posters from your movies? That would probably lure him out.” 

Victor whips out his phone. “I’ll have to call Yakov but I’m sure there’s some in storage somewhere…” he mumbles, his fingers flying over his keyboard. 

“No, no,” Nishigori laughs, “Look, you’ll probably be able to catch him in here for breakfast before his shift in just an hour. You can stay if you’d like, I can use the company. Save the posters for your anniversary,” he punctuates with a wink.

Victor stops typing and looks up at the chuckling chef before his eyes return to his phone in surprise. Of course Nishigori had been joking-- Victor grins sheepishly. “Ah, right.” 

Nishigori nods in satisfaction and pulls a bag out from under the counter they’re sitting at. “Have you ever tried wasabi peas?” 

 

Yuuri’s wakes up and finds a text from Minako.

_ Oops, I sent you an outdated balance sheet! I’ll send you the right one but that means you’ll have to start your analysis over. _

_ Are you serious, Minako-sensei?? This is ridiculous.  _ He probably shouldn’t have sent that, but he’s had 5 hours of sleep in the last three days and doesn’t have much of a filter anymore. He’ll feel badly about it once he’s not running entirely on caffeine and stubbornness. 

_ You should  take a break from working for a day or two-- you can open back up your dance room!  _

Another quickly follows.  _ You can have an extra two weeks if you send me practice videos every day. _

Yuuri rolls his eyes and grits his teeth. It’s too early for this and he’s out of coffee in the house-- he’s not going to be able to have his caffeine fix until  _ after  _ he’s gotten ready for work and the idea of getting out of bed with no coffee waiting for him in the kitchen downstairs makes him want to cry. 

He knows Minako and his parents think he’ll regret it if he doesn’t pursue a professional dance career while he’s young. That’s why Minako has been forcing him to write financial analyses on each hotel she visits in ridiculously short periods of time. It’s not like the job needs to get done or anything-- each hotel submits its own report to their local office and the office writes analyses for Minako to look over. The only reason she’s making Yuuri do it as well is to try and scare him back to a dance career before it’s too late. 

Maybe in another life he could have performed in public, but in this life, it just isn’t possible anymore. He missed his big shot. 

Yuuri dresses as quickly as he can without falling over and slips out of his parents’ home, an old building that’s been in his family for almost two hundred years and used to be the entirety of their hot springs business. But it’s been just the family home since his grandfather was a kid and the first version of the ryokan was built down the road. 

When Yuuri was ten and had been competing in ballet competitions for a few years his parents turned Yuuri and Mari’s former playroom into a beautiful ballet studio with dark hardwood flooring and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. They’d surprised him with the renovation when he’d come back from ballet camp with a shiny “Best Performance” trophy and he’d cried for an hour. He spent the next eight years of his life in that room, then every summer he spent home from college until two Decembers ago. 

Failing his first big audition-- for his dream job, no less-- broke him. 

Yuuri pulls out his earbuds and jams them in his ears a little painfully. He turns his music up to a dangerous level and attempts to drown out all of the resurfacing memories of that audition. 

 

Once Yuuri is in the main building of the resort he heads straight toward the kitchen. Nishigori knows how to make the espresso machine crank out the most potent, caffeine-heavy drinks ever invented, and he always sweetens them to a sickening perfection. Pounding back a huge chocolatey mocha is the only way Yuuri can make it through most mornings (except he usually has a coffee at home even before that, so maybe today he’ll have two espresso drinks). 

Yuuri spots Nishigori standing over a table as soon as he enters the dining room. “Nishigori-kun, how many espresso shots can you put in one cup?” 

“Twelve in one of the hotel’s mugs, thirty-two in my to-go tumbler I bring from home,” he hears Yuuko’s voice immediately respond. When Nishigori turns to look at Yuuri he reveals his wife sitting at the table-- with Victor Nikiforov. 

“Yuuri!” Victor calls happily, waving. The way Victor says Yuuri’s name is like electricity. He just sounds so  _ excited  _ to see Yuuri, and for a moment Yuuri lets himself it means more than it does. 

“Hello, Victor,” Yuuri says, sounding a lot calmer than he feels. Victor just beams at him as Yuuri drinks in the sight of the lovely man. He’s wearing a hoodie and black workout pants and his hair is wavy and unstyled but he still looks like a supermodel and Yuuri is breathless. 

Yuuri must have stared at Victor too long because suddenly Yuuko clears her throat, snapping Yuuri back to reality. Yuuri feels his face going red. “Wh-what are you doing here, Yuuko? You’re not scheduled until the afternoon.” 

Yuuko smirks a little. “Okukawa-sensei called and told me she’d give me anything I want if I helped cover your shifts this week so you can rest. Which is how I got Takeshi and I a month of paid vacation this winter,” she says proudly, holding up her hand toward Nishigori. Her husband grins and high-fives it. 

“Yeah, thanks for being a mess, Yuuri,” Nishigori laughs. 

“Who’s Okukawa-sensei?” Victor asks, apparently tired of being left out of the conversation. 

“She's the Chief Financial Officer of Katsuki Hotels,” Nishigori explains. 

Yuuri shoots Nishigori a panicked look that he hopes says  _ “shut up!”  _ just as Victor whips around to look at him. “The CFO is in charge of scheduling?” he asks skeptically. 

“No, she’s just in charge of Yuuri,” Yuuko giggles. 

“Oh?” Victor asks, his tone turning a little dull. Is he-- disappointed?

Yuuri glares at Yuuko-- he has never been so close to strangling another person. “ _ Yuu-chan,”  _ he hisses. 

Yuuko seems to catch her mistake and gasps, “I mean, she’s Yuuri’s boss! And his mother’s best friend! And our former ballet teacher! She’s basically a third parent to him!” She’s waving her hands and shouting and drawing the attention of all the other employees trying to prepare for the breakfast crowd. 

Yuuri has never been more embarrassed in his life. He may actually die right this second. 

But Victor just looks relieved, visibly letting out a breath, and Yuuri lets himself hope. 

“So, you know the CFO, Yuuri?” Victor asks calmly, breaking some of the hysteria. 

And then, apparently, it’s Nishigori’s turn to open his big mouth, “Well it would make sense for him to know the CFO, given that--” 

“She’s my mentor!” Yuuri squeaks, cutting Nishigori off. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t just let Nishigori spill the beans, but it’s become a habit to avoid telling people that his family owns the hotel chain. He doesn’t want special treatment from anybody-- it makes him uncomfortable. And he’s afraid that Victor finding out may influence him in some way, and he doesn’t want Victor to feel obligated to be nice to him or avoid him-- he just wants Victor to like him for who he is. 

He should probably have a real conversation with Victor if he wants that to happen, though.

There’s a bit of a pause while Victor looks between the three friends with suspicious, narrowed eyes. And then Yuuko jumps up and grabs Nishigori’s arm. “We have to get to work, now!” she says, dragging her husband away. “It was nice to talk to you, Victor! Go back to bed, Yuuri-kun!” 

Yuuri is both intensely grateful that they’re gone and terrified that he’s now alone with Victor. 

Victor just stands from his chair and smiles at Yuuri. “So it sounds like you just got a week off,” he begins pointedly. 

Yuuri tries not to blush now that Victor is so near him. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” 

“That’s so cool!” Victor says, clapping his hands together. “Does that mean you’re trying to move up in the company?”

“Er, yes,” Yuuri responds. “Although I should probably still work on the financial analysis Minako assigned me…” he trails off, noting the crestfallen look on Victor’s face. 

“Ah-- I was hoping you might have time to show me around Hasetsu,” Victor says, and Yuuri’s heart jumps in his chest. 

“Oh! I can do that!” Yuuri says, maybe a little too quickly. 

Luckily Victor doesn’t seem put off, he just bounces on his toes and claps his hands together, a big smile spreading across his face. “Great! Let’s go now!” 

“Um, most shops don’t open until nine or ten, and it’s only five right now-- and I may need to take a nap, I didn’t sleep much last night. At all, really,” Yuuri admits. 

Victor puts a finger to his lips. “I guess I didn’t, either. I’ll probably start to feel it soon, too.” 

Yuuri nods, grateful Victor understands. “Maybe we could meet up around noon? There’s a great ramen place where we could get lunch. They even allow pets on the patio if you want to bring Makkachin.” 

Victor beams. “That sounds wonderful.” 

If they stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces for a solid minute-- well, nobody’s really around to judge them. 

 

While Yuuri usually takes the path that goes around the front of the resort from the house to the hotel and back in order to avoid disturbing the guests in the villas, there’s a gated path near Victor’s villa that leads to his family’s private property, as well. So as they walk out of the main building of the hotel, Yuuri offers to walk Victor back. 

“It must be convenient to live right by the resort,” Victor says once he accepts Yuuri’s offer. “How long have you been working here?” 

“Oh, I think I was-- thirteen or fourteen, maybe? It’s been over ten years,” Yuuri replies, scratching his jaw. He’s too sleepy to remember which grade he was in when his parents started allowing him to work an official job at the resort during school breaks. But he got a ten-year certificate a year or two back (which he had found rather unnecessary, since it’s the family business), so he must have been in junior high. 

“But I thought you went to school in America?” 

Yuuri pushes open the front door and holds it for Victor to walk through. Victor smiles shyly and waits once outside so he can continue to walk next to Yuuri. “I did. But I would come back every summer to see my family and work at the resort.” 

“Ten years-- That’s really impressive,” Victor says without a hint of sarcasm (Yuuri supposes that sarcasm wouldn’t make sense unless Victor knew his family owned the hotel, even if he was still surprised not to hear it), “That must be why they made you assistant manager!” 

“I’m only filling in until the real assistant manager gets back from having her baby. And once Minako-sensei gets back from her business trip I’ll go with her to the main office in Tokyo to work in the financial department,” Yuuri explains. 

“So-- how long do you have left? Here at Yutopia?” 

“Until the end of the summer.” Yuuri turns his head to sneak a peek at Victor’s face, but the sun is rising right behind him and Yuuri is temporarily distracted by the beauty of Victor’s silver hair and pale skin surrounded by a halo of light. “Uh--,” he struggles to keep going, “But I won’t be assistant manager much longer, Chihoko-san should be back in a month, and Minako-sensei around the same time, but Minako always spends the whole summer in Hasetsu.” 

“That’s good,” Victor says easily, tilting his head to the side and studying Yuuri’s face. Yuuri is still staring at him, he realizes. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.” 

Yuuri tries to remember how to breathe. “Y-yes, we will,” he gasps. But then something occurs to Yuuri, forcing its way to the front of his foggy brain, and he finds himself stopping in the middle of the walkway. 

Victor is supposed to be dating Anya Dahlia, but he’s flirting with Yuuri. There’s no doubt now, with Victor asking to spend time alone with Yuuri and giving him dazzling smiles and touching his arm, just now. “Are you alright, Yuuri?” Victor asks quietly. Yuuri has to drop his eyes to the ground before he can respond.

“Um, you’re flirting with me.” 

Victor’s hand drops from Yuuri’s arm and there’s a pause. “Yes,” Victor admits. “But if that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” 

“I-- I just know you’re dating Anya Dahlia,” Yuuri says, “And-- I don’t want to be some sort of-- of homewrecker.” 

“Oh no, wait, fuck,” Victor says hurriedly, and Yuuri can’t help looking up in surprise. The older man is pushing his bangs away from his face. “Yuuri, I forgot, I was going to tell you. I’m sorry, it totally slipped my mind--”

“It doesn’t matter, Victor, even if you had told me, I wouldn’t--”

“No, really, let me finish,” Victor begs, and Yuuri goes silent. “I’m not dating Anya anymore, I swear.” 

“But I don’t really want to be a rebound, either,” Yuuri asserts. 

“Argh, no.” Victor slides his hand down his face and mumbles something in Russian before saying, “I’m too tired for English.” Yuuri waits patiently as Victor closes his eyes and heaves a sigh, collecting himself. “Anya and I never really dated,” he says finally, opening his eyes to look into Yuuri’s. “It was all for publicity, and I very much do not enjoy being in her presence,” he says the last part with a little bit of disdain and it makes Yuuri smile involuntarily. 

“So are the rumors about her being-- unpleasant true, then?” Yuuri asks, and the tense line of Victor’s shoulders softens. 

“They may even be understated,” Victor confesses with a small smile. “But I _ am _ having a hard time getting her to agree to end the arrangement, again. She wants to wait until  _ Stammi  _ has been out a little longer to avoid bad publicity, so I’d understand if you didn’t want to get involved with me at the moment.” 

_ Victor wants me  _ involved  _ with him,  _ Yuuri can’t help but think.  _ He’s not really dating Anya and he wants to go on a date with  _ me. 

Yuuri really should consider this situation. There’s a chance that Victor isn’t being truthful-- he has been called “the greatest actor of his generation”-- or that Victor actually is the playboy the media makes him out to be (even though Yuuri has always found this an exaggeration-- even if Victor has dated all the women he was reported to have, it would make sense. He meets a lot of interesting people in his profession and he’s entitled to date any of them he wants) and he’ll end up dumping Yuuri in a few weeks when he gets bored or find someone better.

But when Yuuri licks his lips, lost in thought, Victor’s eyes follow reflexively, his pupils widening. Any reason in Yuuri’s brain flies out the window at the thought of getting to kiss Victor this afternoon on their date. “I don’t think it would hurt to go on a few dates, in the meantime,” Yuuri admits. 

Victor’s responding smile is so beautiful that Yuuri can’t even find it in himself to regret his weakness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Their first date! But don't ring the wedding bells, yet. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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